Short Stories
by Saddletank
Summary: A collection of one shots, maybe some two parters, mostly set in Italy when Seiji and Shizuku are married. Possibly some flashbacks to their schooldays. Some lemons, some humour, some romance, some sad, some just odd. A bit like a TV show, Friends maybe.
1. Short Stories : An Introduction

**Short Stories - Introduction **

Hello. I'm back. Heh _blushes with apologetic embarrassment_ sorry, I just can't stay away. It was just five days ago that I finished my fanfic version of War and Peace – a trilogy of books about my favourite Japanese lovers. So what happened? Well I had about 48 hours of the worst cold turkey I've ever experienced in my life (and believe me, many years ago when I gave up smoking and drinking waaaay too much I had some _very_ bad days). That was followed by 48 hours of aimless dull indecision about what to do with my life. What to do with the long sausage string of hours between waking up and going back to sleep. OK, I have a mortgage that needs paying, a job, and a family, and an anime collection to watch, and more manga to read than I care to think about, and a bunch of web forums to post drivel on, but come on, a man needs real purpose in life doesn't he?

And then today, I experienced the most marvellous revelation when I discovered that I could, and should, as and when the mood takes me, just carry on writing.

I mean… it's so simple isn't it?

Vook, stop it, I can hear you laughing. You can do as many "I told you so's" as you like, you won't make me guilty. Well, not much.

-o-oOo-o-

So here I am.

What will happen here is a bit like a TV show. A TV show on a network that has a very odd programming schedule. It will hopefully be more light hearted than my trilogy, and I hope I can do more with (and improve on) my humour. There will also be the usual romance (you know me by now, if it's me writing we gotta have romance). And maybe some naughty bits thrown in now and again because I love to write naughty bits about this couple, she is such a sexy lady and he's such a cute and mmm… _virile_… guy. So naughtiness may arise sooner rather than later. You have been warned.

But like a TV show this will be a series of one-shots (maybe some two-parters will creep in now and again) covering generally the more recent years of their marriage. I may go back in time to the odd flashback of their school days, don't know yet, I'll see how the mood takes me. This will all make more sense if you've read "The Other Side of the World" but you don't have to. These TV shows will (I hope) just about make sense even if you've never read one word of what I've written before.

Think of this as a kind of Friends without your Jennifer Anistons, your Matthew Perrys and the rest of them but instead two of the coolest, cutest and most barkingly-madly in love Japanese anime characters you could ever hope to meet. From time to time supporting actors will wander on stage for an episode or two – I've been wanting to explore the stories of a few of my characters for some time now but in my main stories I never had the space or opportunity. Now, by giving them an episode of their own I can explore that. We might see some episodes featuring Kinu, Yuko and Sugimura, Nishi, whatever. Wherever the mood takes me.

A few of my own characters will probably show up: Anna-Marie, Tony Piscotti, Adamo and Lisbet, Lisette (hmmm, she'll definitely get a look in), possibly even that very strange Signoire Fabrizio who wanders around the violin school like some odd smelling Munsters extra.

I have absolutely no idea how long this TV show will run nor how frequently shows will air, nor how long they will be – 10 minute shorts, 1 hour made-for-TV movies, full blown 2 or 3 hour theatrical releases. No idea at all.

So, lets see how we get on, hm?

If you like what you read (or even if you think it sucks) please write me a review, and if you have ideas for episodes of your own, by all means drop by my forum and let me know – or e-mail me – I'd be happy to discuss plots and put together episodes created jointly with others. For my forum, click on my pen name.

Oh, and did I say? It's damn good to be back… _smiley_

_19 Feb 07_


	2. Episode 1 : Conversation, Crate, Cello

Episode 1 - Conversation, Crate, Cello

_Summer 2005, Via Giovanni Maria Platina_

His phone rang. Or rather it didn't ring, it played Handel's Water Music to him. Bored a few weeks back, he'd copied a CD of his own violin playing onto her laptop, edited a few of the tunes into small mp3s and bluetoothed them to his phone. So now he smugly had as many unique realtones as he wanted. For the last week it had been the Hornpipe. Problem was, it was such a jolly tune, he'd rather sit and listen to it than answer the call. He'd once decided to let it run through to the end and the caller had hung up. _Baka_.

A month ago he'd had Jupiter by Holst on there and had hardly answered any of his calls._ Anta baka_.

He wiped his oily hands on a cloth and picked up the phone. It was her. He'd guessed it was, she often called a couple of times a day just to chat about anything and nothing. Nothing was the best, he loved to chat with her about absolutely completely totally nothing whatsoever, that way he could turn off his higher brain functions such as paying attention to the words and just wallow in the sound of the air traveling from her lungs, up that gorgeous windpipe, over her vocal chords and out between those lips and tongue. Mmm, what he'd give to be a breath of that air.

She was talking. He'd answered the call and said hello and she'd begun a conversation and he'd been dreaming and missed a whole minute of it.

"…can hardly get through the door. Need to come and move it. Nearly killed the delivery man getting it up the stairs…"  
"Sorry? What? The Signore just came in and said something. What did you say?"  
"Are you listening?"  
"Now I am, yes."

She sounded a little exasperated, cross even.

"I said, it's blocking the doorway, I can hardly get in and out the door. I need some space here. Can you come home and do something with it?"  
"With what?"  
"Seiji! Are you deaf or stupid? The planet Venus of course! It's just crash landed on the balcony and rolled in here and is blocking the front door!"  
"For heaven's sake, what on earth are you on about, girl?"

There was a sigh. Not a sigh that spoke of weariness, more a sigh that spoke of _if-this-goes-on-much-longer-Seiji-is-gonna-get-a-slap.  
_  
"You weren't listening were you?"  
"I was trying to but got distracted," he lied  
"We just had a huge crate delivered. It's massive. I can't shift it. The courier guy somehow managed to get it up three flights of stairs before he died but it's blocking the door. Come home now, it needs… I don't know, it needs _things doing with it_."

_that was techie girl-speak for "I need a man".  
_  
She ended on a note of Shizuku-pissed-off-ness. Four out of five stars of pissed-off-ness.

_a crate? Of what? Where from?_ He racked his brains. Nothing useful fell out.

"Well, what is it?"  
"_Baka!_ It's big, it's made of wood, and it's damn heavy. And it's got your name on it!"  
"No, you silly woman! What's in it?"  
"How the hell should I know? It's nailed together!"  
"Open it, then."  
"What with?"

_your forked tongue, woman _

"Get a screwdriver, prise the lid off."  
"Amasawa?"

_uh? Since when does she call me by my family name any more? _

"Signore Amasawa!"

_oh shit _

He turned round. The Signore stood in the doorway. The man had x-ray hearing or something. He'd be upstairs in his study two floors up and he would just know when Seiji was on the phone, when the workshop sounds ceased for more than a few minutes. Spy cameras, the guy had to have spy cameras in here somewhere. Or a Ouija board.

_these violins won't make themselves… _

"Amasawa, these violins won't make themselves."

_bingo! Guessed your line! I get the all expenses holiday in Rome! Thank you ladies and gentlemen and goodnight. _

The man was a slave driver. A brilliant artist he may be, but he was the crappiest people-manager Seiji had ever met.

"Sorry, Signore, there's a problem at home. My wife is having trouble in the kitchen."

_damn that was the lamest excuse he'd ever heard. Sorry, my dog ate my homework. _

_why am I like this only when the Signore reminds me I'm paid to learn violin making and not to exchange verbal sumo moves with my wife? I'm never this meek with anyone else._

"Amasawa, you know I disagree with you making long private calls in work time. Please keep it short. Fabrizio is about to make tea. Do you want a cup?"  
"Yes, please."  
"After he's brought it in, I'll ask him if you were still on the phone. I do not want to hear him say yes. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, Signore."

The elderly man left the workshop.

_jabber, jabber, squeak, jabber _

Seiji looked at the phone in his hand. Shizuku's tinny voice came out of it.

_hm… it would seem we've reached five stars of pissed-off-ness, now.  
_  
He put the phone to his ear, gently, like it was filled with nitro-glycerine and any sudden moves would blow his head off.

"…the damn toolbox? Not in the entryway cupboard, not under the bed! Where on earth have you put it?"

He didn't know what she was on about but he couldn't afford to not know. If she realised she'd been talking to the air for the last three minutes, he'd be sleeping on the balcony tonight. Again.

"Under the sink. The kitchen sink. Where it always is."  
"Why didn't you tell me a minute ago when I asked?"  
"Sorry."

There was a pause while sounds of Shizuku sweetly cursing inside kitchen cupboards wafted tinnily back to him. Fabrizio came in. Seiji lay his phone on the workbench and picked up a cloth and a piece of scrap maple wood. He pretended to polish the wood. It never occurred to him how stupid polishing a piece of scrap maple might look.

"Ah, Fabrizio, grazie."  
"Prego."

The ancient caretaker placed the tea on the workbench beside Seiji's phone. He glanced at it. Shizuku chose that very moment to swear exquisitely in Anglo-Saxon. The word was probably lost on the old man but the context wasn't.

"Uh, Fabrizio. I'm right out of borax polish. Can you tell the Signore that I have to go to the warehouse and pick up a new tin? I'll be back in fifteen minutes."  
"Si, si non c'è problema."

Seiji grabbed his phone and made for the door, as he went out he noticed the two new five litre tins of borax right by the door.

_baka!_

-o-oOo-o-

He was in a doorway, fifty yards up the alley. He checked back towards the violin school. No Fabrizio hanging out an upper window with binoculars, no secret agents lurking in the shadows, no stealth bombers. Of course there was always Signore Guarnieri's spy satellite network silently orbiting thousands of miles out in space, filming his every move, but if he hid in this doorway he was probably safe.

"Did you find it?"  
"Yes, I did, but I banged my head on the cold water main pipe. Twice."  
"Sorry. I'll kiss it better when I get home."  
"It won't need kissing better, it'll need a weekend at a health spa. An expensive health spa."  
"Fine, no problem. Can you open the crate?"  
"Can't you come home early?"  
"I could but you'd need to make my funeral arrangements."  
"Is he in one of those moods again?"  
"Uh-huh. Some days I think he's a cross dressing woman with really bad PMT, she's just not even reasonable sometimes."  
"OK, well, I'll just put up with this thing in the way 'til you get in."  
"How big is it?"  
"It comes up to above my shoulder and it's about a metre square. It won't come through the door, Seiji, it's outside on the public hallway and people are looking at it in a very unhappy tone of voice."

He thought again. What on earth could it be?

"Does it say where it's from?"  
"Where are you from?" Shizuku asked the crate, "Sorry, it's not telling."

Seiji smiled, she had some good humour left then. He might not be on the balcony tonight after all.

_mental note – buy flowers and wine on way home _

"It's got a label on down here. Wait a moment…"  
"What does it say?"  
"Nothing. It's the strong silent label type."

_good, she was fine, just a bottle of wine then, scrub the flowers _

"Can you tell where it's from?"  
"Japan. Are you sure you're not expecting this?"

He thought hard. He'd cleared quite a lot of his possessions into the empty office behind dad's garage last time he'd gone back to Tama. He'd contacted a shipping company and instructed them to send everything over to Italy, and stuff had been arriving in shipments for two or three months. It just worked out cheaper doing it that way than hiring a whole container. His violins had arrived first. There was his bike but the crate sounded like the wrong shape. He drew a blank.

"It must be something from my workshop at home, but I can't think what. Are you able to open it?"  
"Hm, I think so. Wait, I'm going to put you down a minute."

He listened while sundry clunks and bangs and squeaks of nails pulling through wood came down the phone line. A couple of minutes later she was back. She sounded breathless. If he'd had the luxury of this being the right mood, he could have happily just listened to her heavy breathing.

_reminder to self – ask her to phone one day and just do a pervert heavy breathing call. Preferably a day I can sneak off to the toilet and listen properly for five minutes… _

"Guess what it is."  
"I really can't. I've been thinking for ages."  
"What's nearly as tall as me, valuable, over two feet wide and needs a lot of heavy thick soft packing material to get safely from Tama to Cremona?"

_mom? In a crate? _

No, he couldn't think of a single thing.

"I give up."  
"You play a smaller version of it."  
"Is this a game now?"  
"Yes. And you are going to love this. Guess right and I'll be nice to you in bed tonight."

_now **that** was effective people-management... mental comparison between Guarnieri and Shizuku as possible bosses: one would mouth him off when he did wrong, the other would off him with her mouth when he did right. There was just no comparison was there? And Guarnieri didn't look anywhere near as good in stockings._

He smiled. Mostly because he'd suddenly worked out what was in the crate. Tall, wide, heavy packing and lots of it.

"Grandpa's cello!"  
"Bingo! Well done!"

_OK, reinstate those flowers, no balcony tonight _

"Is it alright?"  
"I think so. I got the crate lid off, wait while I take a side off too."

More knocking and splintering noises. The crate he hoped. Not the contents.

Then faintly;

"Oh, no. No. _Baka!_ Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! No!"  
"What is it?"

More cursing. Then she was back.

"Damn beans – polystyrene beans! The crate was full of them. They're bloody everywhere. Oh, no the breeze is blowing them around the stairwell! _Shit!_"

There would definitely be some mouthing off tonight, but he thought the chances of him having the benefit of it were getting slimmer by the minute.

_ah, well, two bottles of wine then – and some really expensive flowers. She deserved them… _

-o-oOo-o-

_19 Feb 07_

as usual, inane ramblings can be found on my forum - click on my pen name 


	3. Episode 2 : Coffee, Cello, Cheekiness

**Episode 2 - Coffee, Cello, Cheekiness**

_Summer 2005, Via Giovanni Maria Platina_

"Teach me."

The espresso tasted great. He'd been trying to get it right for years. She'd bought him a nice little machine for his first birthday that they'd been in Italy and he'd got quite good with that but what he really needed was a better quality one. But he was too embarrassed to mention it. It was her present after all. And it had meant a lot to him, bought in those days when they had almost no money. Then a while back Adamo and Lisbet had moved house and they'd finally got the space to bring her bigger one from her mom's place. So Adamo's machine was spare.

Would they like it?

It had taken a moderate amount of diplomacy and more than the usual amount of foreplay to get her to agree but in the end she'd acquiesced. Not that she was in any mood to object to anything after all the foreplay. So his small machine had gone to the second hand shop and Adamo's bigger one took its place.

"Are you going to teach me? I'd like to learn."

And what Adamo didn't know about espresso machines wasn't worth knowing. It was large and silver and very retro-y and had clever looking temperature dials on it, and knobs and it could do a single measure or two and everything you could possibly want. And the money from the old machine had paid for a new external hard drive for her laptop. Everybody wins.

"We could do it together."

_we. do it. together. _

Subliminal registration of the words brought him back from the fantasy land of the amazing taste of a really good, smooth cup of espresso.

"Hm?"  
"If you teach me."  
"Teach you what?"  
"The cello."  
"Really? You'd like to learn?"  
"Hm."

_knees apart. skirt pulled up. the wide instrument holding her open.  
_  
Cellos were made to be played by young women. Was there a finer combination of image and suggestion to be found anywhere in art? Add to that a really good musician and the result was what God had intended heaven to be like.

"Sure, I'll teach you. I'll borrow one from the school."  
"I want to learn on grandpas one."  
"Yes, you will, but it will help if we have two. I can teach with just the one but having a second I can demonstrate easier."  
"Great. But can we make a start now?"  
"We can. But why the rush?"  
"No reason. I've been thinking about _it_ for a while and just thought I'd mention it."

_did she emphasize an 'it' in there just then? just slightly? changes the meaning a little, hm?  
_  
Seiji looked at the cello. Since its arrival it had lived in the corner of the dining room. He'd made a polished mahogany stand for it. He played it occasionally but he wasn't a great player. It took up too much space but there was something nice about a cello in a room, especially this cool, tiled, plain cream-painted dining room. The rich reddish fox-pelt colour of its wide belly plate and the fine curve of the neck gave the room a touch of quality and taste. When friends came round the conversation usually turned to it at some point.

"That's OK, it's just that you never mentioned it before."  
"Well, I'm mentioning it now."

_this was an exchange of the bleeding obvious_

"The idea only came to me in the last couple of months, while I was working in Kyoto, since it arrived here."  
"All right, let's clear some space."

They put the dining table back against the wall and moved a chair out. Seiji picked up the cello.

"How do you want me?"

Mentally he raised an eyebrow.

_bentoverthetablewithyourlegsapart_

"Just sit, keep your back straight."

She did so.

"Open your legs."

She did that as well.

_am I going to be able to teach her anything? when she's like this?_

"Wider, you need to open them much wider."  
"Well that's it. It's this skirt. It's too tight."  
"There's two options. Cellists either wear trousers or very long loose skirts. Can you get changed?"  
"There is a third option."

She looked up at him. She was wearing _that _look. Once that look showed up, Seiji doubted if any serious teaching would get done. Once that look showed up basically nothing serious ever got done at all. Until she was satisfied. He could tell what was in her mind. Shizuku stood up, reached behind for her skirt catch and drew down the zip. She slithered out of the tight rose-coloured skirt (it was half of one of her older suits she'd worn when working) and gracefully stepped out of it. Her white tee shirt was long enough to tuck into the waistband of the skirt but no longer. Not long enough. It didn't cover _anything_. His gaze went straight _there_. Pink. The pink set today. The pink set that was see through. The pink set that was see through enough so he could see a hint of her. One of his favourites. And her usual skin tone stockings. This was hopeless, if she wanted him to teach her any cello, this was going to be a complete waste of time. Unless of course she'd had other plans all along. She smiled sweetly at him and sat again, and spread her legs.

"Come on then, give it to me."

That look was back. Innocent, teasing, cheeky.

"You don't want to learn the cello do you?"  
"Yes I do. Why do you think I took my skirt off?"  
"How do you seriously expect me to teach you a musical instrument dressed like that?"  
"You're not dressed like this are you?"

She suddenly looked worried. He rolled his eyes.

"Stop messing around. You know exactly what I mean. Shizuku, I can't concentrate on teaching when you are in this mood."  
"What mood? I want to learn the cello. What's the matter with you? Pass it to me. I'm sitting here with my legs wide open and you're acting very strangely."

_still she smiled. I know what game you're playing._

Sighing, he swung the big instrument around, turned its back plate to her, placed the foot carefully in a joint between two tiles where it wouldn't slip and leaned the wide body in and against her.

_I want to be there  
_  
She got comfortable, adjusting her knees so it was lightly supported and it leaned into her left shoulder, her left hand lay on the neck. He found the bow and handed it to her. She experimentally waved it and then rested it across the bridge.

"Let me just check your posture."

He walked around behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and checked for tension and position there.

"Sit up a little straighter."

She did so and he slid a hand in behind the instrument and placed it flat on her stomach, pressing her softness back a little.

"No, you need to be more upright. Spine pressed back against the seat back. Better. It will feel odd at first, it's not a natural sitting position."

His hand there didn't feel odd at all. He pressed again, making the most of the opportunity. He completed his tour of her position. He squatted before her and put his hands on her knees, checking for how firmly she was supporting it.

"How am I?" she enquired, "open enough for you? Or do you want me wider?"  
"No, that's fine. How does it feel? Comfortable?"  
"Feels odd. Don't often have my legs like this."  
"Closed this much you mean?"  
"If you're not going to be serious, Seiji, I can hire a private tutor. He'd be expensive, and I'm sure he'd be happy to make sure my legs were wide enough apart."

Seiji sat back on his heels, this was a waste of time. He stood and walked into the kitchen and picked up his half-drunk espresso. It had gone cold. He returned to the dining room and leaned against the door jamb. He sipped the cold coffee. Yuck. The best he'd yet made and he'd had no time to enjoy it.

He looked at her. She, with _those_ eyes, those big eyes, looked back. Expectant. Innocent.

_who me? do _what_ with you? I don't know what you mean!_

"You've got a choice. Either you get dressed and I teach you some cello. Or you take off the rest of your clothes and we do something else."

_ultimatum time. had he blown it?_

She looked at him coolly, levelly. A small hint of something played at the corners of her eyes.

"Do you mean that?"  
"Definitely"  
"Work or play?"  
He nodded, "Work or play, you choose."  
"Hold this."

She lifted the cello with her left hand and pushed it away from her. He set down the cup, took it and moved it aside, leaning it into the corner of the wall. He took the bow as well.

"I think I need a practical posture lesson first."

She crossed her arms in front of herself, took hold of the hem of the tee shirt and smoothly lifted it up and over her head. The pink bra was sheer as well.

"You be the cello. I'll play."

-o-oOo-o-

_He did teach her in the end, and she did become quite good. It took two years and she kept her clothes on every lesson. After that day they never mixed business with pleasure. Because they both knew pleasure would always win. _

_There would be some days he'd come home from the workshop and she'd be playing, the apartment would be deliciously filled with that deep mellow sound. He'd shower and change while that music lifted his heart. Some days she'd be dressed and he'd go in the spare room, quietly sit, and listen to her playing. Or he'd take a violin and join her. Those times were magical. _

_Other days, he would peer around the door and she'd have her back to him. And she'd be naked, or wearing something frivolous and pretty, and rude, and that beautiful reddish fox-pelt coloured cello held firmly by her spread knees, would have the most wonderful sounds drawn from it by her hands. Just as he would when he, naked, took its place minutes later. Those times, in their own special way, were magical too. _

-o-oOo-o-

20 - 21 Feb 07


	4. Episode 3 : Devotion

**Episode 3 - Devotion **

_April 2005, Via Giovanni Maria Platina_

He opened his eyes. Daylight. Sunshine through the blinds. Warmth.

These were sensations rather than things. Perceived rather than understood. Felt, not quantified.

The ceiling. This was a thing. His senses were awakening, eyes were functioning. It swam slowly into focus, the light fitting with its rattan shade. It needed dusting. He'd have to get the stepladder for her, her special stepladder. This was a thing quantified, not felt.

She was so petite that even with the feather duster on its stick she couldn't reach it. He smiled at the remembered scene: her frustrated mutterings trying to reach it, and him picking her up around the hips and lifting her, one of her hands gaining purchase on his shoulder, his face pressed deliciously into her, smelling her, and she finally dusting up there.

"My step ladder."

She'd called him.

"The only step ladder in the world that hugs and kisses."

She'd smiled.

He'd been busy in the dining room, writing to an instrument dealer when she'd called him in. It had broken his train of thought. But for her, it had been no problem.

As he lay there and remembered, these memories were things both quantified, and felt.

-o-oOo-o-

And because he knew it was there, his eyes were drawn to the corner above the wardrobe. The parchment coloured stain where last year the cold water outlet from the loft tank had leaked. A seal had developed a hairline crack and, unseen, had dripped for days. He'd only noticed because one day she'd told him there was a damp patch above the wardrobe. He could have called the landlord but it seemed easier to get the ladder out and get up in the loft space and take a look. It wasn't a difficult job, all he had to do was go to the hardware store and get a replacement fitting. But it had taken a while. Shut off the mains water and then run the bath for two hours to drain the tank. Then get up there in the narrow loftspace in the sweltering 40 degree summer cramped darkness and dust. Replacing the fitting and reconnecting had taken only fifteen minutes, but jammed into that hot hellish space it had seemed like fifteen years. Why is it that the only wrench you have is always an inch longer than the space available to work in? He only had ten knuckles, but he felt sure he'd skinned twelve. Skinning an already skinned knuckle damn well hurts. He'd invented some interesting new words that day.

And afterwards? No way to shower because they had no water. He'd sat in the shade in the garden, grumpy and sweaty and stinking and sucking his knuckles for an hour while the tank refilled.

And all she'd done was mention the wet patch above the wardrobe. She hadn't asked him to fix it, she had merely made an observation.

It had cost him a half day off work. The Signore, tactful and understanding as ever, had been furious. Without reason as usual.

In the garden she'd brought him a glass of bottled water from the fridge. The ice in it clinked as she walked.

"Thank you."

She'd said.

"For you, it's no problem."

He'd replied.

And it hadn't been. Really. Nothing at all. For her.

And now the old dried stain remained. He could call the landlord and get his man round to repaint it but it hardly seemed worth it. Seiji could get a tin of paint and do it. No problem. How he loved painting ceilings. In the Italian heat. Yeah, his favourite job. After replacing water tank fittings.

A job for the weekend maybe.

Maybe.

Or maybe he'd skip that and take her out somewhere. It was nice by the river at this time of year, the trees budding and the water still high from the meltwater in the Alps. They could go for a walk if it stayed dry. She needed attention, it had been only a few weeks since _that_ time. That time in Paris. Seiji thought about it a lot, he still didn't understand the _why_. But he told himself that the _why_ wasn't important. Not any more. Because there was the _now_. And the _now_ mattered much more. Because she'd come back and not gone away. Yes, taking her for a walk was best. It was what she needed. It would be no problem.

-o-oOo-o-

He looked at his bedside clock. Time to get up. Her arm was across his stomach. He turned his head and looked at her. He couldn't see her face, it was scrunched down against his side, she showed him just one ear and that mop of auburn hair. He lifted the arm from his skin and slid out from under the duvet. Spring was here, it was certainly warmer. They'd put the duvet away soon and just sleep under a sheet. It got so hot at night in summer, even with the balcony doors open, just a sheet was enough. Some nights, not even that, some nights just the hot air on their bare skin was enough.

She moaned and moved. Sitting up on his side of the bed he looked back at her. Her arm swept slowly across the bed, searching for him. He picked up his pillow, then her arm and stuffed the one under the other. The arm, satisfied by contact, pulled the pillow against her chest and he briefly glimpsed her face before it pressed into her dream version of him.

-o-oOo-o-

The water ran warm, blood warm. It coursed over his skin and washed away sleep and lethargy. He put his head under the shower and felt the tendrils of liquid stream through his hair. Gradually the water worked its way between the thick matted fibres and found his scalp. Even the blood warm water felt cool when it reached his hot scalp. He did nothing for two minutes but press the palms of his hands to the shower cubicle wall and let the water rinse over him. There was a knot in one shoulder. He raised that side and let the water flow more into the knotted muscle.

He opened his mouth and the liquid poured in. He swirled the mouthful around and spat it out, rinsing his gums.

-o-oOo-o-

They shared the bedroom, the lounge, and the kitchen and the balconies. But the dining room was his. He'd play there, he'd read there, he'd do his business writing and telephoning there. Unless they were eating or had friends round to eat with them, it was his space. Funny how that happened in homes, how lines were invisibly drawn and accepted. Territories marked.

The bathroom on the other hand was hers. It was filled with her smells, her myriad bottles and sachets of things, odd little brushes to brush various things he could only guess at, her razors. Why she needed so many razors he couldn't fathom. He had one and when it was blunt he threw it away and used another. The mysteries of a woman's bathroom. And here also were her ornaments, her flowers, her origami that she would painstakingly varnish to seal from the damp and steam. And of all the spaces within her bathroom the bath was her keep, her fortress, her last defence line. Seiji hardly used it, he was more a shower person, quick and practical.

But the bath, that big corner bath with the two steps up, was hers. If this were a ghost story then her ghost would haunt the bath, a soul refusing to depart the place where it had felt most at home. Churches haunted by monks. This bath haunted by her. Same difference.

She would spend hours in there, literally. She'd soap herself in the shower, wash her hair, rinse and then lie in the hot clean water of the bath. For him the shower would be the means and the end, he'd be out and dry in ten minutes. But for her when she got out of the shower, when she was already as clean as she needed to be, she was just starting. He would bring her coffee, or sometimes wine depending on the time of day and her mood. She'd murmur her thanks. Once she'd been in there so long that dinner had gone cold and he'd brought in a bowl of rice and chicken (or had it been vegetables? He couldn't recall the details) and fed her. Eyes closed, her only indication had been an open mouth, and he had brought up the chopsticks and slipped in the very tips of them and her lips had closed and drawn the food off. He had used small mouthfuls in order to draw the meal out, he wanted to watch that mouth receive and take the food for ever. He'd knelt on the floor and fed her, like a priest worshipping at an altar. He had looked down at her submerged body. He'd wanted to touch. Each time that mouth opened and he gave her another mouthful he'd wanted to stop, throw the food aside and feast on her himself. But he'd hesitated. This was her space.

It was no problem. For her, no problem at all.

Very occasionally he'd join her, there was room after all, but two in a bath meant fun, while for her a bath was a ritual of relaxation. So he joined her only rarely, and only at her request, when she wanted fun over relaxation. And on those occasions the water wouldn't be clear but filled with her bubble bath, the scent of apples. And they would use the slippery bath oils not to cleanse but to renew, and excite and invigorate in other ways. Even then, he felt like an intruder, a stranger visiting her space.

-o-oOo-o-

No, he was definitely a shower person.

Which was why he was surprised when the shower door opened behind him. He didn't hear her come into the bathroom, he didn't even hear the shower door open. What he felt was the air, the temperature change. Even though it was warm outside it was still cooler than in here, he felt the cool outer air flow in the bottom of the cubicle first, the warm air rising displaced upwards by the cooler air entering. His legs therefore registered her presence first, then his bottom, then his back. It only took a second. His mind registered next. He started to turn his head.

"No. Keep still."

She'd said.

He stared at the wall. Her slender arm came over his shoulder into view and picked up the shampoo bottle from the corner shelf. It withdrew beyond his peripheral vision.

"Head back."

She'd said.

He did so, looking up. The man-made miniature summer rainstorm now splashed on his face, down his chin, his chest. He kept his hands on the wall. Her fingers came. Into his hair, scooping up the long dripping black mass, she piled it on his head, added shampoo and began to lather it. Her fingers spread open and dug down through his hair to his scalp. She massaged him. He closed his eyes. From time to time the softest parts of her would brush against his back, would press exquisitely against him. And be gone. She was good at this, her fingers, firm yet gentle, came down to his temples and commenced small circular paths above and in front of each ear.

God this was good.

He began to drift, to flow, to fly. The combination of warmth, wetness, her delicious softness on his back, her fingers there, everywhere he needed them, all over his scalp, easing away the stresses, pouring in the relaxation. Her ministry lasted five minutes but each seemed like an hour. At the end of it he was no longer in a shower cubicle in Cremona, it was just him, and her touch and forever.

"Head forward. Rinse."

She'd said.

He let the water wash away all that troubled him. With his head down and his eyes closed he didn't see her hand reach for the soap. She made a lather then applied her hands to his upper back. Again, she served him. Her firm fingers, pushing into his flesh, carving furrows through his aching muscles, digging swirls through the knots of stress. She found the muscle high on his shoulder that was troubling him and gave it special attention. He moaned in pleasure as the discomfort left him, both from his upper body and from his mind.

She reached up high one final time, she was so short that she had to press hard against him and this time he felt all of her. She lifted the shower head from its cradle and rinsed his shoulders and back. Again pressure as she returned the shower to its place.

"You finish,"

She'd said.

"Or you'll be late. But tonight, when you come in, I'll finish. I'll do the front. _All_ of it."

There was a little flutter across his shoulders as she laid several small kisses there. Then she was gone.

-o-oOo-o-

He finished, dried, dressed and left the bathroom. He put his head around the bedroom door. A small bundle was deeply wrapped under the duvet. The towel she'd just used cast on the floor. Typical. Only a little dark red-brown twist of hair stuck out. He went to her side of the bed, knelt and kissed the hair.

"See you later. I'll phone."

He'd said.

"For you, it's no problem."

Muffled, she'd replied.

He paused. Hesitated, not understanding her comment.

As he went into the kitchen he saw what she had done. One of the large split bamboo place mats was laid out on the side. On it was a plate with two slices of warm buttered toast, spread with honey and cut into perfect triangles. Adjacent a mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice.

With the breakfast, at the back of the mat, was a slender clear glass vase, one they used for putting single stems of flowers on the dinner table. In it was an origami flower, just one, the paper pale blue, her colour. The colour of Shizuku's intuition.

It symbolized romance, and love.

And beside the orange juice – an origami crane, the folds razor sharp and sure, exquisitely made and very tiny, no more than two inches in wingspan. The crane was folded from shocking pink paper. The colour of Shizuku's love.

The crane. A symbol of honour, loyalty, long life and joy.

_21 - 22 Feb 07_

as usual, inane ramblings can be found on my forum - click on my pen name


	5. Episode 4 : Blind Date

**Episode 4 – Blind Date**

_October 2001, Milan_

He walked over, pulled out a bar stool and sat next to her, the most ordinary thing possible. Things like this must happen every evening, he thought, in every city, all over the world. Married people meeting unmarried ones and wondering what the evening would bring.

She looked exactly as he remembered, even the same fire truck shade of lipstick and the same ridiculously short skirt, although this time it was as part of a cocktail dress and not a suit.

"Good evening," he bowed, more than a little nervous,  
"Hi," she smiled widely, a smile that should have helped him relax, but didn't, "you made it. Thanks for coming."

He glanced around, checking the exits. He saw him across the room, in an alcove seat behind her where she wouldn't notice him. The man nodded at him from behind dark glasses. He was there. Good.

-o-oOo-o-

_September 2001, Hotel Alfonso_

It had started out as a complete shock. She had phoned him and arranged a date, just like that, from right out of nowhere, a voice from two years ago. As people do.

No they don't. They never do that.

Scary thing was, he'd said yes. And he hadn't a damn clue why

_so why not say no? why not say I'm happily married? I'd love a date with you but my wife just went into labour. why not just throw the phone down on the table, watch it bounce to the floor and scream sorry, gotta go, earthquake!_

He'd expected her to call within a couple of weeks, or a month at the most. But when she didn't he mentally put her aside. Maybe the woman had come to her senses, seen his wedding band, seen his nervous reaction to her advances and decided to forget it.

_pah, he's just a kid, married and still a teenager – so what can he know? he'd be no fun anyway, he'd know nothing of the world, nothing about real women. he'd be a boring date._

In time he forgot her entirely, maybe it had been his imagination, her elbow against his, her face far too close, her strange contact when they'd shaken hands goodbye.

_her crossing and uncrossing those legs. no, wait up – that wasn't right. that hadn't been his imagination, his imagination wasn't that good.  
_  
But then, a few days ago, she'd phoned him. He was having lunch, a quick canneloni, a ciabatta and a peroni on Tony's terrace. Cheap and convenient.

"Si, Amasawa."  
"Seiji Amasawa?"  
"Si."  
"Gutentag! Hallo from Chermany!"  
"Uh, hello?"

_Shizuku doing a prank call? _

"Seiji, this is Lisette."  
"Lisette?"

_should I know you? are you a musician? or with an orchestra?_

"Lisette Bergfeldt. Don't play innocent to me Seiji! You remember, Hannover. Those funny old dolls."  
"Oh."

And that was the extent of his reaction.

_oh_

"You do remember! I knew you would! How are you?"

_married. like I was before. are you stupid?  
_  
"Fine. I'm OK."

_and I'm nominated for the conversationalist of the year award_

"That's great. You're keeping well then?"  
"Sure. Everything's fine."

_my wife is fine too. remember her? I'm sure you do? that other person I was with. you know the type – a wedding ring, a skirt, breasts._

"Seiji, you sound really well, I'm pleased. What are you up to these days?"  
"Making violins. Didn't I tell you before?"  
"No, you didn't. I didn't know that. An instrument maker, that's so romantic. You must be good with your hands."

_why don't I just say I'm sorry, I'm married, I have to go now. or turn the phone off. or invent a traffic accident. say I had a curry last night, nice talking with you but I need a shit.  
_  
But while these possible lines of conversation went around in his head, none of them came out of his mouth. He hardly knew how to react at all.

"Well, yes, I do work with my hands."

_duh_

And that was the problem – Seiji had only ever known one girl, he'd fallen in love at thirteen, married at nineteen and moved to a foreign country, worked in a workshop run by an elderly gentleman who didn't even have a female secretary, and he'd never had close contact with girls. Much. Or at all really. So Seiji was completely under-equipped to respond to this. He remembered Lisette now. German, tall, blonde, bubbly, more curvy that should have been physically possible, amazing red lipstick, and legs. Yes, legs. Lots of legs. She'd be what – twenty eight or so now? He wondered if she still had a penchant for wearing wide belts instead of skirts. Seiji was both afraid, and strangely intrigued as to why she would call _him_ after two years. He was nothing special, in fact he was a clueless kid really. Had her marriage failed? Had she worked her way through every man in Germany and broken them all? Shopping in Italy now, hm? Fresh meat. He was simply puzzled. Which was why he said yes to the date. He was just plain intrigued.

"That sounds so interesting. Look, Seiji, I'm down in Milan next weekend. A computer conference. I'm staying at the _Hotel Straf_ on the _Via San Raffaele_ and the people I'm with are so boring…"

_you mean you've had them all already  
_  
"… – you know IT guys – I mean, you know…. so I thought of you and wondered if you'd like to meet up?"

_she sounds desperate. even I can tell that. and I've never even heard a desperate woman before. but now I know what a desperate woman sounds like. she sounds like Lisette phoning up some Jap kid she has absolutely nothing in common with and who she saw once over two years ago. how far down her phone book was my number anyway? _

"Uh…"  
"That's great, I'm so pleased. Saturday night. I'll meet you in the hotel bar at eight. And I'll be thirsty – I always get so thirsty staying in those air-conditioned hotel rooms."

_come on, even I can tell you're desperate. you haven't broken all the Germans have you? you just opened your mouth and they all said "no thanks, I don't go on dates with mindlessly crass bitches"._

Seiji was by no means a man of the world, but even in his relative innocence he could detect a pathetic attempt at getting him into bed.

"Uh, sure, yeah. See you at eight."

Which was why his last line deeply disturbed him.

He wasn't desperate like she obviously was. He was happily married. Extremely happily married. To a woman who provided everything he could possibly need. It was just the plain damn weirdness of this call. A girl like Lisette must have dozens of boyfriends. A girl like her was a dream to lots of men, surely? An almost perfect body, a never-stop-partying personality, and successful in her job.

Which left the unanswered question.

What the _fuck_ was going on?

-o-oOo-o-

_September 2001, Via Versecchi_

"You remember Lisette don't you?"  
"Mm? Who?"

She was preparing fish. One good thing about the market in Cremona, there were a couple of great fish stalls. This was seabass. Topped and tailed, skinned and filleted it made fair sushi. A little oily but not bad. It might not be the same as her mom could sometimes get in Tama, but it was still good. And fresh. And cheaper.

"Freiheit Software. In Hannover. The people with the Steuben doll archives."  
"Oh _that_ Lisette, I was trying to think of someone we knew here."  
"Yes."  
"Wow. She's a blast from the past. Why bring her up?"

_yeah, you're right Seiji, this is the best way to deal with it. honesty is the best policy. I can't go on a date with a woman while I'm married. at least not without telling Shizuku. because I'm too young to die.  
_  
"You remember our conversation in the car? On the way to Berlin that night?"  
"Yes, you fancied her or something."  
"I did _not_ fancy her! She made a pass at me if you remember."  
"Yes, I know she made a pass at you. And you fancied her."

Calm eyes, placid face, sweet innocent voice. Shizuku was delighting in twisting the knife. Seiji was just glad he wasn't seabass.

"No way. I told you I didn't and that was the truth."  
"_Was_ the truth? You mean it no longer is?"  
"You'd make a good lawyer, you know. Ever thought of twisting people's words professionally?"  
"I recall you were the one with fantasies of her, having her sit in your lap not wearing very much."

That smile of hers _was_ there wasn't it? Playing? Testing?

"Oh, come on! That was a game. Just a game. Hypothetical stuff."  
"Is that why you called out her name a couple of nights later on the train?"  
"What! I never did that?"

_oh, his face. priceless  
_  
"No, you didn't. Just checking. Sometimes, Seiji, you're no fun. I can't tease you with my wit; you end up screaming foul every time. It's such a shame. If you had half a brain we could have such a lot of fun, jousting words with each other."  
"You read too many books. You always did."  
"Oh, why did I marry a workman? Seiji, why didn't I marry someone with a brain - like a rocket scientist, hm?"  
"I don't know Shizuku, some stupid reason. Love maybe."  
"Hm, yeah. Love. Baka! Silly invention."  
"And you know what they say about rocket scientists – one good launch and they're finished."  
"So why bring her up, if you're not carrying a torch for her?"  
"She phoned me this lunchtime."  
"Really?"

A fish head was decisively removed. Hard.

"My reaction exactly. Double-you-tee-eff, was my first thought when I put the phone down."

Shizuku smiled at his language. Another bass had its head removed from its shoulders. She turned the fish around.

"And?"  
"We have a date. Next Saturday. In Milan. She's staying over for some computer conference. That OK with you?"

She was removing a tail when the knife slipped and cut her finger.

"Ow. _Baka!_"  
"Careful, the kitchen is a dangerous environment."

His turn to grin.

"I can throw them as well as cut with them Seiji."  
"So, you can have a nice quiet night in. Don't wait up for me."  
"You aren't serious?"  
"Of course I am!"  
"Now I don't know if you're messing with me or not."  
"Annoying, isn't it? When someone messes about like that?"  
"Once in a while it's fun watching you try to match me, it helps me know how good I am at it."

She fiddled with the knife, making slick, incisive cutting gestures. He just replied with his best grin, a little more on one side than usual. He knew he had the upper hand.

"Well work the scenario over in your head and come to a conclusion. Considering I needn't even have told you."

A pause. She sucked her fishy finger and Seiji watched the cogwheels turning.

"Double-you-tee-eff."  
"Yes. I just want to find out what she's up to. It makes no sense. She must have loads of men in her phone book, why pick me? Two years later out of the blue."  
"Maybe none of her other boyfriends are Italian. Down here she has no-one else to go out with."  
"She only needs to walk into any bar in Milan and she'd get company for the night within fifteen minutes. I may be wet behind the ears but even I know that."  
"Maybe she has a thing for Japanese. Maybe she's working her way down her list of her Jap toy-boys and your name finally rose to the top."  
"You know, I'd go for the lawyer job, definitely. As a guidance counsellor you'd suck."  
"Hmm… s_uck_."

Shizuku paused, her sore finger still in her mouth, a faint smile, as though of good memories, played gracefully over her face,

"Have you ever stopped to consider what a lovely word that is?"  
"_Anyway_, moving on… the Jap toy-boy scenario is more believable. I can't believe she'd pick me specifically."  
"And you really are going?"  
"Hm," wide grin, crooked grin.  
"She'll eat you up and spit out the pieces."  
"Spit out? I was rather hoping she'd swallow."

Now it was her turn to look worried.

"You're not going."  
"What?"  
"I don't trust you. Or rather, I don't trust her."  
"Who are you? My mom?"  
"No, your wife! And you wouldn't survive ten minutes with Lisette, Seiji, I know it."  
"You come then."  
"What?"  
"You come too. Sit in the bar somewhere and keep an eye on me. I just want to find out what she's up to."

A pause. Shizuku took her finger out. Her mouth stayed open. A look of wondrous revelation came over her face, to be replaced a moment later by a look Seiji had never seen before. Ever. Not once in the seven years he'd known her. Flipping though his mental card catalogue of her moods he came to the 'S' section under which he disturbingly found "scheming evil cow".

"I have a much better idea," she said.

The combination of her smile and that cold tone of voice, caused a footfall on Seiji's grave.

He was fine with "playful" and "teasing mind games" and even, on certain days, if she was nice to him afterwards, he could live with "wind Seiji up mercifully then laugh at his expense" but he wasn't sure he liked the look of "scheming evil cow". Oh, no. That look spelled trouble. He hoped not for him.

-o-oOo-o-

The "scheming evil cow" plan involved Adamo, and Adamo would save him, if things went wrong. Well, that's what the scheming evil cow told Seiji.

-o-oOo-o-

_October 2001, Milan_

The _Hotel Straf_ was very unusual. A traditional large hotel in Milan's chic centre (possibly the chic-est centre anywhere in the world), its old school stone frontage concealed a culture shock interior. All raw stone, much of it dark, subdued recessed lighting, large bright bold modern art, everything down to the smallest accessory such as ashtrays and table lamps was designed on a shiny minimalist theme; inside it was more art gallery than hotel.

"No trouble finding it then?"  
"No. It's pretty stylish here isn't it?"  
"You like it?"

Seiji looked around: country boy comes to the big city.

"Yes, it's really arty, I love it," he said, genuinely impressed  
"The fashion designer Vincenzo de Cotiis completely renovated it."  
"Who?"  
"Never mind," she gave a wave of her hand as though she dealt with dim country boys every day, "but I like this hotel. I stayed here at the convention last year, I love it, it's like being inside a machine. I like the dark masculine décor, very… hmmm… what's the word… solid. Like a man's chest."  
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Drink?"  
"Thank you. A Southern Comfort and lemonade please."

The barman knew his job, he was hovering a little way away ignoring their small talk but picked up the sound of a drinks order. Seiji raised a finger.

"Two, please."  
"You're looking good Seiji."

_shit, so soon?  
_  
"Thanks. You too."  
"Aw, no wedding ring I see. Are you…?"  
"We split up. It didn't work out. She went back to Japan."

_he never was much good at lying _

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's so sad."

_hmm, like you so mean that_

"So you're a free agent now?"  
"Hm, kind of. But I'm not looking at the moment."  
"Oh, everybody's looking, Seiji. All the time. Even when they're married, they're looking. If they are honest about it."

_didn't she think about anything else?_

"I was thinking…"  
"I like a man who thinks, intelligence makes a person more inventive don't you think? More _imaginative_."  
"...why you called me?"  
"As I said. I'm down here for the convention and it's boring in the evenings. It's boring all night in fact."  
"Um, uh-huh, but I mean we only met once. Two years ago. For a couple of hours. Surely you…"  
"Surely I what?"

She turned on her bar stool, swinging away from the bar and facing him. She swung one of those amazing legs over the other, crossing them deliciously with a hiss of nylon. She didn't pull her skirt down. Seiji glanced where he knew she wanted him to glance. He went red.

_I'm twenty one. I'm not a boy any more. so why am I behaving like one? _

The drinks arrived.

"Surely you didn't call me specifically after two years?"  
"My fingers seem to have dialed your number."  
"No, I mean, if you wanted to meet up, why wait two years?"  
"If you really want to know, it's been a pretty rough two years. Freiheit didn't succeed in making it in the computer games industry. I lost my job. I'm now in Cologne with FB Games, the big American company, you'll have heard of them, yes?"  
"Yes, everybody has."  
"I now head up their European PR department and things have been fantastically busy this last fifteen months."

_this is bullshit, I know it is, you must trot out a variation on this story for every old boyfriend you keep hanging on_

"And the two weeks after I came to Hannover? You didn't phone me then?"  
"What is this, a police interview?"  
"I'm only asking."  
"You agreed to meet me tonight," she held his gaze, "You had my number, but you didn't ring me. Hey, never mind, enough of this negative stuff. Let's not fight. Why don't we just talk about something nice? Like… you?"

_yeah, definitely avoiding the subject. something isn't adding up here_

"And anyway, Seiji, you underestimate yourself. Where's your sense of self-worth? Of course I like you. I've had a crap couple of years, this is one of my first big conventions for FB, and I remembered you and I thought I'd call you up. I like you, you're really cute."

With her winning smile she raised her glass.

"Prost!"  
"Yeah, cheers."

Their glasses clinked. She lifted hers. He did too. But he held his an inch from his mouth and watched her over it. Those red lips. They _were_ amazing. They opened and she tilted the glass. Seiji watched in shock as she downed the drink in one. She lay the tumbler down on the bar, ice clinking. A curve of her lipstick stained the rim. She raised a finger.

"Yes, please, barman."

_oh shit. this did not look good_

She gave him a radiant smile. She put her hand on her leg and smoothed it down from skirt hem to knee, she stroked her knee a moment then slid the hand back up her thigh. The dress she wore was blue, a simply stunning blue. French blue, it's called, bright and pure. And it seemed to have a high lycra content. It had a high neck with a choker collar and the top fell away in a vee, no shoulders (her arms were bare too). It didn't actually show anything. But at the same time it showed everything. Her chest made Shizuku look like a child.

_like she's got two puppies down there._

He laughed at the randomness of the thought, even though it scared him.

_oh shit shit shit _

_shi tzus_

_Shizuku had been right. there was no way there was a bra under there_

"And it's obvious how you feel Seiji. I think I made it clear in Hannover that I found you… intriguing… I have never known a Japanese man. And after two years you still come out to see me. You being still married as well."  
"No, we split up. I told you."

She picked up her fresh drink and took a sip. Her cool eyes studied him over the rim.

"Seiji, I've known lots of married men. It's standard procedure to take the wedding ring off. But I know. The mark on your finger is still fresh. I'd say you were wearing it earlier today."

_fuck. fuck. oh, fuck _

"But don't feel bad. I know why you came here tonight. Everybody's looking, Seiji. If they are honest about it."

_Idon'twanttobeherehelpfucknooooooo_

"So I'm very flattered that you like me. There. Don't you think it's good to get all the doubt and confusion and playing silly games out the way at the beginning? Now we can relax and enjoy ourselves."

_you've done this before haven't you? hundreds of times. I've wandered into the spiders web here. seriously under estimated the opposition. oh, no, I'm in deep shit. way too deep._

He looked at his watch. Only ten minutes had gone since he'd sat down. Shizuku was right on target. He'd lasted ten minutes before she'd chewed him up. Seen right through him. By taking off his wedding band, he'd completely blown the 'no, I can't I'm married' get-out. And she knew it. Now would come the swallow. Seiji looked past her toward the man in the alcove. He was reading a paper. He tried to catch his attention but the sod was ignoring him. Was he smiling a little? Enjoying his suffering?

_you wait Adamo, you're so dead_

He tried to string her along, to pad the time out, to buy himself breathing space until he could catch the attention of the man in the alcove. He asked her about the computer games industry but she gave a couple of short dismissive answers about her job. About how it was only one of her skills and wouldn't he rather hear about what else she liked doing? Everything about her oozed sexuality and innuendo. And confidence. It was that damned, cool, feminine self-assurance that pole-axed him. When she was in one of her moods, Shizuku could be deliciously suggestive like this. But Seiji so much enjoyed Shizuku doing that, because he knew how it would end and how much they both enjoyed her style of verbal foreplay; the game itself was half the pleasure of the encounter. But Lisette was simply scary, because she was so confident and because he knew that, unlike with Shizuku, where this was leading, he didn't want to go.

It turned out that Lisette, rather than talk about herself and her job, would rather talk about him and his. So he told her. But then she brought the conversation around to his hands and suddenly she'd picked up one of them and was holding it.

"Hmm, yes, very strong hands. But gentle too. And lovely long slim fingers. I expect a violinists fingers are so dexterous…"

This was no longer funny. Seiji was almost wetting himself in panic. He looked again at the man in the alcove. The man smiled at him and waved back. What was he playing at? Wasn't that his cue to come to Seiji's rescue? Lisette reached for her drink. In doing so she let his hand drop. But she let it fall on her leg. Seiji looked, like an idiot, at his hand on her skin.

_Adamo. damn it, man, you're the cavalry, get your arse over here. now! _

"Excuse me."

He got up to go to the toilet. Checking that she wasn't watching, he went past the man in the alcove.

"When I come back from the toilet, you damn well do your job and get your sorry backside over there and help me out!" he hissed.

-o-oOo-o-

He sat back down. She smiled. Was that her third drink now? And was her skirt a little higher up her legs? Uh… was that the front of her panties he could glimpse?

_ohmygod _

he could see…-

her…-

she's not wearing any

Adamo! help!

And then he was saved. The man in the alcove stood up. He removed his sunglasses, lay down his paper and came towards Lisette's back. Yes! The U.S. cavalry was coming. Thank God, everything would work out. Seiji watched Adamo approach. He wore a lilac shirt and his best grey silk suit, a fedora hat on the back of his head. How would he handle this?

_good thing I'm not gay, I'd knock her aside and jump him myself  
_  
Seiji needn't have worried, Adamo handled it beautifully. He'd seen him do this so many times, it was like watching a professional football team make a perfect winning play, like the Spanish riding school of Vienna, their Lipizzaner stallions prancing with exact precision across the arena. Like a well oiled machine. It was a self assured Italian man, who _knew_ he was Gods gift in full cry. It wasn't just what he said, it was the body language, his winning smile, his whole demeanour. It was stunning.

"Hey! Lisette, no?"

She turned toward the voice.

"It is you! Lisette, wow, you look fantastic! What are you doing here?"

Adamo stood back a step and let his eyes run down her body, very obviously enjoying what he saw.

"Hi… have we met?"  
"Ah, Lisette, always the slippery lady, don't you remember? The Rome games-con, two years ago? You were with… hm… let me think. Oh, yes, Freiheit! That was it, Freiheit, that crappy two-bit software house up in Hannover. Boy their games sucked. But I remember _you_. How could I forget! That fantastic end of show party, and afterwards – oh, yes. How are you these days?"

Seiji sat back and waited for the response.

"Uh, fine. I'm fine. Mr…?"

Ah, yes, she had no idea who he was, but didn't want to appear clueless so she covered herself. It was even interesting seeing this confident woman backpedal and start to think about a counter-move. Seiji wished he could take notes, or a video.

"Balbo. Enrique Balbo! You haven't forgotten me surely? I never forgot you! And you never returned my calls. I was heartbroken. We had such a great night."  
"Uh, Enrique… yes… didn't we?"  
"So, it's amazing to see you again. You're here for the computer show, I assume?"  
"Right. And you? Are you still with…?"

She was fishing for a hint, for some help. She had no clue who this guy was but wanted to seem as though she did. Adamo let her flounder, a fish caught on a line. He merely stood there and smiled. Damn, he was good looking Seiji thought.

"Hey, you must remember. Guess!"

_hey, nice. come on cool lady, get out of that one.  
_  
"I'm sorry Enrique, that Rome show was huge, I spoke with so many people that week, I forget..."  
"Spoke? Spoke? We didn't just speak! You don't remember me? AKR Graphics. We make all the force feedback equipment. Steering wheels, joysticks. All those heavy duty vibrator mechanisms. You seemed very interested in those. We didn't just _speak._ You don't remember that fantastic night? You're breaking my heart."  
"Uh, sure, I think I remember…"

Seiji sat watching for five minutes while Adamo led her along this crazy convoluted path, all the time suggesting what they had done had been a lot more than talk at the show. He was a master at this. But so was she and he thought she might suddenly work out that this was all an act and then begin to wonder why.

"So, you seem to be enjoying yourself tonight, with your Chinese friend."  
"Japanese. Seiji is Japanese."  
"Sure, whatever." To Seiji: "You guys all look the same anyway. No offence mind. Pleased to meet you."

He stuck out his hand. It was part of the plan for him to insult Seiji, but even so, for some stupid reason Seiji was annoyed. He didn't take the proffered hand.

"Ah, no problem. Anyway, Lisette it's great to see you. I'm in town all weekend, you'll be staying tomorrow night as well?"  
"Yes. Of course."  
"Great. I'll be around. What room are you in?"  
"Three three two."  
"I'll drop by the bar again, same time. How's that?"

_hold on a minute. what?  
_  
"OK, Enrique, that would be good. We can catch up on things."

_uh, wait, this isn't right… Adamo?  
_  
"Great. But hey, how about a nice goodbye? They way you always do?"

_goodbye? What the heck are you on about? you're supposed to take her away and push me aside so I can escape you jerk!  
_  
"Alright, seeing as it's you, Enrique."

She smiled at him and leaned back against the bar, her elbows behind her resting on it, her chest pushed out. Adamo moved forward, he pushed one leg between hers and put his hands on her waist.

_no, no, this isn't how it's supposed to go, you idiot! _

Adamo kissed her. It was a typical Adamo kiss. Much sexier and longer than anyone else would have had the nerve to try in such a public place and with a complete stranger. Seiji's mouth hung open. Very much like Lisette's was doing, in fact. He had a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling. Adamo and Lisette carried on, right in front of him. She even began to make some noises, she was clearly enjoying this. Seiji was frozen to the spot. He was lost, Adamo wasn't following the script. Why? What the hell was going on?

Adamo and Lisette broke apart. She was turned on, that was obvious. Adamo turned to him. Seiji's mouth still hung open, the colour draining from his face.

"Enjoy watching do we, Mr. Chinese man? If you're here tomorrow night, you can watch a lot more, if that's what turns you on. It'll cost you though. Ciao!"

And he went, without a backward glance at Lisette but as he passed Seiji he winked. Seiji turned.

_no, no, this isn't in the plan. you're supposed to take her with you, leave me in the cold then lose her somewhere outside in a bar, somewhere where you can go to the toilet then slip out another way. why the hell are you leaving me here. with her?  
_  
"Hey!"

Seiji called after Adamo. But what would he say? What could he say that wouldn't blow his cover? He was fucked, he was stuck in a trap and couldn't get out.

In response to his shout Adamo raised a hand, but didn't turn, and disappeared through the front doors. What Seiji didn't see was Adamo getting his phone out and making a call.

_oh, hell. now what?_

He turned back to Lisette. She had recovered her composure and was repairing her lipstick. She still had a little pink colour in her cheeks and down her neck. Seiji was now stuck. Well and truly stuffed.

"Who was that goon?" he asked,

This was damn weird. Too weird to contemplate, so _he_ asked _her_ what was going on. She, of course, had no idea.

"Oh, just some guy I met years ago. Forget him. Anyway, where were we?"  
"Wait a minute. Wasn't he supposed to…?"  
"What? Supposed to what?"  
"Sorry, I don't know… but I thought…"  
"Oh, that kiss? You think he knew me _that_ well? Ah, don't worry about it. I've forgotten him already. Tonight is our night."

Seiji got off his bar stool. His legs were actually shaking.

"But weren't you going to spend the evening with him?"  
"No. What are you talking about Seiji? I phoned you tonight."  
"But…"

_shit, oh, hell, oh mother!_

"But what? Look Seiji, no need to get excited. He's just some guy. Come on. Let's enjoy ourselves. And as you seem to have got up, that must be my cue. Let's go."

She turned "Barman – please add the drinks to my room bill."

She slid gracefully from her stool, put her arm in his and led him towards the lifts.

"Uh…"  
"Oh, don't worry. Look, I know you're quite young. And married. And maybe you're not sure about this. But no need to panic and certainly no need to feel guilty. This will just be a night of simple fun and in the morning, no worries. You go home, I go to the computer show and nobody gets hurt. So, just enjoy!"

And she squeezed his arm and slid closer, pulling his arm around her waist and sliding hers around his. She was warm and smelled nice and was just so different to Shizu…

_no. no. no this wasn't right. this mustn't go on. hell, no. what do I do?_

In the lift it was worse,

_ohmygodnomuchworse  
_  
As soon as the doors closed she came to him, pressing close, her arms came around him, her hands up his back and into his hair, her soft chest pressed into him and her mouth closed over his.

Seiji was literally pissing himself in fear, as soon as her mouth touched his he pushed her away.

"No, no, wait. Um, this isn't right."  
"Sure it is. It's no big deal. Seiji, it's just sex. Just your body against mine without clothes in the way. It's fun, great fun. I'll show you how much fun it is. And when it's over, no harm is done."

Seiji was seeing red, he was sweating, shaking, his heart was hammering. What the hell had Adamo done? And why? Shizuku, what am I doing?

_what the hell had that "scheming evil cow" look really meant?_

-o-oOo-o-

The lift doors opened and she led him by the hand down the corridor. Some way down in the other direction two women were outside another room. Seiji didn't know why his legs moved, he didn't know why he didn't suddenly scream and run off. But he couldn't, something to do with being a man, and not acting like a complete baby, a complete – _baka!_

"Where the _hell_ have you been?"

A voice behind him. A woman's voice. She sounded angry.

"And what the _hell_ are you doing?"

She sounded very angry. He stopped. He turned. Lisette stopped as well. And she looked.

"Seiji!"

It was a race between Lisette's and Seiji's jaw as to which hit the carpet first. Seiji won, but only just. Because something very, very odd was happening. So odd that for a moment his brain just couldn't accept what he saw, let alone decipher what it meant. The two women he'd glimpsed down the corridor were closer, approaching. One was in front of the other. Correction, one was _leading_ the other. Leading, as in how an owner leads a dog.

_good doggie. _

His brain tried to make sense of this bizarre scene but had difficulty because -. Because -. No, this was not happening. After the weirdness downstairs, his brain had come undone, disconnected from reality. Was he so scared it was shutting down and showing him strange things? That woman was leading another girl by a collar and lead…?

Time seemed to stand still. Seiji seemed to have hours in which to watch this strange tableau of this peculiar couple. It was made all the odder by the design of the hotel – the walls were dark grey, occasional red and yellow abstracts were between the room doors, each lit by a single bright spotlight. At intervals down the corridor other spots made pools of light on the floor. As the two women approached they were alternately lit and in deep shadow.

"Seiji! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The two couples were now a few feet apart. The two women stopped. The taller one was dressed all in black. Ankle boots, stockings, what looked like a corset and a calf length leather skirt cut full and which swirled as she walked, supported by heavy lace petticoats long enough to show below the hem. She wore nothing over the corset and her upper chest and arms were bare except for elbow length leather gloves. From her ankle boots, her corset and from her waist hung metal chains. Her black hair was piled up on her head, and her lipstick and heavy eye makeup were also black. The flesh of her face was pierced in several places with rings and studs. A Goth. A very serious one. What shocked him most was that in her left hand she held the leather loop on the end of a chain dog lead, the other end of which was linked to a leather collar around the other woman's neck, while in her right hand she held what looked _my God_ like a riding crop. The other girl was slighter, slimmer and smaller, but clothed no less outrageously – again all in black: high heeled shoes (incredibly these had ankle straps that closed with small padlocks), stockings and a strapless dress that was so short the stocking tops showed. The smaller girl had very long straight black hair and was wearing black sunglasses. Her face was meek and downcast and she held her hands behind her. The only thing about both women that wasn't a part of the black theme were the lips of the meek girl. These were painted the same shocking red as Lisette's.

Seiji seemed to have a long time in which to take all this in. The two women were outrageously dressed, the tiny skirt of the slender woman was completely out of place in a public corridor of a smart chic hotel. And yet the stylish dark minimalist surroundings somehow were the perfect setting. Mistress and slave, out for an evening stroll. What could possibly be more ordinary?

Seiji looked at the taller woman. Her eyes sparkled with a dangerous fire.

"I asked you a question, bitch!"

Seiji looked at Lisette and waited for her to explode in anger. It was only when she didn't but continued to wear an expression that must be similar to his own, that it dawned on him that the Goth wasn't talking to her. But to him.

"Answer me!"  
"Uh…"  
"Don't look at me. Keep your eyes down, that's the way it should be and don't you ever forget that."

He looked down. But as his eyes left hers he knew. A spark of recognition passed between them. He knew only one Goth, in fact he knew her very well. And this was her. While his mind tumbled in freefall at the sheer strangeness of this meeting a part of it was suddenly happy, thrilled and even relaxed.

_oh, its her. thank god, its her.  
_  
Lisabet, Adamo's girlfriend. She now spoke in Japanese, she must have learned this from Shizuku.

"Do exactly as I say Seiji, and we'll get rid of this woman."

In Japanese, Lisette could not understand. In Japanese this was a code.

_god, I'm saved. thank you Lisabet. and Adamo, did you do this? you bastard!  
_  
"I'm still waiting for an answer," her voice was chill with menace.  
"Sorry, I don't know…"

The riding crop lashed out and cut his thigh, but not too hard. He flinched and to his right Lisette flinched too.

"Sorry… Mistress, was what I think you meant."  
"Mistress. Sorry, Mistress. I don't know."  
"Pathetic, trying to run out on your own for the evening. To do what. Have fun? Did you think I'd not find you? I will deal with you later, for now, keep silent."  
"Who the hell do you think you are and what the hell is going on?" Lisette asked.

"I'd ask you exactly the same questions, but I know the answers," came the cold reply. Seiji had never seen her like this, she was scary, "You have picked the wrong boy to take to your bed, my girl. He is my property and I'm taking him back. Go down to the bar again and get yourself another lover for the night."

A door opened a little way down the corridor and a stylish elderly couple came towards the group, heading for the lift. As they passed they stared at the three women and the Japanese man. At the lift they were still staring.

Lisabet stepped close to the German woman.

"That wasn't a suggestion. Do it. Now."  
"You're sick."  
"Not as sick as you will be if I take my crop to you. Now step away from my property."

She took another step. Lisette slid her key into her door and opened it. She glanced at Seiji.

"You sick bastard. You Pervert! Disgusting!"

The door slammed behind her.

"Come on. Move. Quickly. Come with me."

So grateful he could hardly believe it, Seiji obeyed.

-o-oOo-o-

Lisabet took them up one floor to another room. Walking behind the two women Seiji saw that the meek slim girl had her hands held behind her by leather handcuffs. She was a lovely shape, very slim. Seamed stockings too, expensive ones, just the kind he liked.

_no, no way, you've got in trouble with one woman tonight. that's enough.  
_  
A door opened, they went in. The bedrooms, it seemed, followed the theme of the rest of the hotel, dark walls, muted simple furnishings, bright abstract art, subtle but stark spotlighting.

The laughing began at once, a man's laughter. Adamo was in a chair on the far side of the room. He sat, relaxed and amused, chuckling, drink in hand.

"Kneel."

Lisabet spoke to the meek girl and she sank smoothly to her knees, head down. The Goth looped the dog lead through a catch in the side of her collar. Seiji, not yet grateful, still in shock and with traces of fear from nearly being dragged into bed by another woman, strode over to Adamo, fist pulled back.

"Oh, here comes trouble."

Adamo quickly got up and side stepped the first blow, he stepped back, hands held out before him.

"Whoa, whoa there, boy. Down. Good slave."  
"You deserve a good kicking, you bastard. You just put me through hell. I must have grey hair! _Bastard!_ How could you do that?"  
"Hey, don't kill the messenger, it wasn't my idea."  
"No matter, I'm gonna smack you and then the idiot who thought this all up."

Adamo kept moving away, as Seiji came at him. He ran out of space to retreat and pressed himself up against the wall by the bed. He covered his face with his forearms.

"I'm too young to die," he whimpered in mock fear, although he was still laughing.  
"He's right, it wasn't his fault," Lisabet spoke. She too was smiling. She opened the mini bar and poured herself a drink, "Something to calm your nerves, Seiji? Looks like you need a good stiff drink."  
"Was all that your idea?"  
"I added a few finishing touches, the clothing, the dog lead, the slave thing. Worked quite well I thought. Taking orders suits you, we should try it again some time… Now, what have we here? Bourbon, hmm, and lemonade. I didn't know you drank Bourbon, Seiji."  
"How the hell? Were you in the bar?"  
"No, but mobile phones are so useful. I was up here. When Adamo found out her room number he told me and watched from outside. He let me know when you left the bar and I came down one floor and waited. I think it all worked rather well. Drink."

This last word wasn't a question. It was an instruction. She lowered her glass to the mouth of the kneeling bound girl who raised herself, opened her red lips and took a sip. The slim girl sank down again.

"Here."

The Goth poured Seiji a drink and offered it to him. He turned back to the cowering, chuckling Adamo and gave him a heavy slap up the side of the head.

"_You arsehole!_"  
"Ow!"

Adamo rubbed the stinging mark Seiji had just left. But he didn't stop laughing, if anything he found this even more amusing. Seiji went towards Lisabet and took the glass, sat on the end of the bed.

"You guys are twisted. You set me up."  
"No. You set yourself up. Without any real skills, without a hope in hell, you went into the lions den. Zoo told me about that German girl. From what I saw of her she could have caused you a lot of trouble. Aside from messing with the contents of your trousers and your boyish head, she might even have started messing with you in the future, a kind of blackmail, knowing you were still married. I bet she could have made contact with Zoo if she'd put her mind to it. Nasty piece of work. Take my advice, Sage, and next time just stay away from anything and anyone like that."  
"So this must have been Shizuku's idea. Wait 'til I get hold of her, that evil, scheming little…"  
"She must love you a lot."  
"What?"  
"To do all this for you, just to show how much she cares."  
"I don't follow."  
"It was all her idea. I just added the mistress/slave bit at the end, just for kicks. Zoo came up with the idea of telling you that Adamo would get you out of the fix if things went wrong. Only she didn't tell you the whole plan."  
"I don't see how that shows her love, it only shows how twisted she can be. She loves messing with me but this time it's too much. When I get home tonight I'm going to tell her what I think of her stupid plans."  
"And conveniently forget about _your_ stupid plans?"  
"Sage," Adamo spoke, "she put you through all this to teach you a lesson. Hell, man, you must have got it by now, are you that dim? By letting you come here and then shocking you badly she's teaching you not to do it again. If you do ever get tempted and she's not around… well, just don't, my man, hm? Don't even consider it."  
"When you next see her I think you should say thank you," Lisabet continued, "She went through a lot you know. She came to me in the week and was really worried. She knew she had to cover your sorry arse in case something silly happened but she was scared too. As I said, she loves you a lot."  
"Yeah," Adamo, again, "Don't be hard on her. She might even have suffered more discomfort tonight than you have."

Seiji held up his hands defensively,

"Alright, alright, you made your point."

He stared at the carpet. Adamo chuckled again.

"Funny, eh? It was your date but me who got a really good kiss out of it."  
"Oh, really?" said Lisabet, "That wasn't in the plan I don't think?"  
"No, _you_ embellished things with your little slave girl, I embellished them with a kiss. So we both had our bit of fun.  
"And me," said Seiji, resignedly, "all I got was being _this close_ to crapping myself."

He looked at the kneeling girl.

"And this is…?"  
"A friend of mine, a good friend. She agreed to come along tonight and play the role, which was great because having her in the dog collar added a lot to that scene downstairs, it unnerved Lisette that little bit more, knocked her off-balance."  
"Does she do this often?"  
"No actually, it's her first time. She agreed to do it just to help out. Although just between you and me I think she quite likes it."

Seiji stared at her, there was something appealing about such a submissive attitude, about someone being so calm and obedient and yet obviously happy as well.

"So let that be a lesson to you," Adamo said, "I'm a man of the world, I've seen everything Seiji, and done nearly all of it. You're still innocent. Play it safe, hm? I don't wanna see my friend get hurt."  
"Nor Zoo, either," concluded Lisabet.

She drained her glass.

"Adamo should have left you something in the minibar, I don't think he drank the lot. So you can share it later. Time we were going. Come on you," she spoke to Adamo, "me and my riding crop have got words to say to you about that kiss."  
"You're going?"  
"Yes, my man, enjoy," Adamo winked as he went toward the door, stepping around the kneeling girl in handcuffs.  
"No, I have to get home, Shizuku will be expecting me. Uh, I need to phone her, let her know I'm OK."  
"Don't bother. She knows," smiled the Goth, "oh, yes, something else you'll need."

She unhooked the dog lead from the kneeling girl's collar and placed the leather loop in his hand. She also passed him a key ring.

"Now the little ones are for the shoes, the biggest one fits the collar lock and the other fits the handcuffs. Not that you'll be taking them off for a while, maybe not until the morning even. I do actually think she was out of order and took the game a bit far. I would leave you my riding crop too but I plan to use that on this uncontrollable Casanova tonight. Come on you, let's get you home."

Seiji looked at the keys in his hand. He pointed at the bound girl.

"Uh?"  
"And the wig is a very expensive one, so please take it off before you start any rough stuff. And one last thing – the room is paid for. Our little gift to you for the fun we had tonight. It was definitely worth it. And remember, an evil scheming thing she may be, but she does love you. Bye."

She pecked him on the cheek. The door closed behind them. He heard their laughter fading down the corridor.

Seiji looked at the kneeling silent girl. He went up to her and put his hand on her head. He sank his fingers into the wiry black hair, gripped it and pulled. The long black wig came off. A shorter style was revealed beneath, a familiar auburn. He bent down and removed the opaque glasses. Still she didn't move. He refilled his glass and sat on the bed, took a sip.

"Drink."

It wasn't a question, but an instruction. He held the glass to her mouth and she opened her lips and swallowed. Finally she spoke.

"I had a lot of fun at your expense tonight. Now it's your turn to have some fun at mine."  
"Look at me."

She did so, lifting her head for the first time.

"That really sucked."  
"I'm sorry," she replied.  
"No, I didn't mean that. I mean Lisette. That was stupid of me. I won't do that again."  
"Thank you."  
"I'm the one who's really sorry."  
"It was a lesson worth learning, and no harm done."  
"And as Lisabet said, looks like I won't be needing these keys until the morning."

She looked at him. And smiled.

"Behind me, in my hand. Take a look."

He did so. His wedding band.

"Put it on. If you're going to go to hotel rooms and spend the night messing with strange women, I'd much rather you wore that."

He put the ring on his finger. He thought about it.

"You know, I don't think I have ever taken this off. Not once. Not since you put it on the day we were married."  
"Sucked," she said in response, "I always thought that was such a nice word. And here I am, already kneeling…"

_22 – 28 Feb 07 _

28 Feb: A few changes to the end scene in the hotel room.  
Some notes about this story are in my forum - click on my pen name.


	6. Episode 5 : In Sickness

**Episode 5 – In Sickness**

_January 2006, Via Giovanni Maria Platina _

Badly prepared fish was what caused it. I think. We were never sure, you never can be can you? But we talked about it afterwards and he had the calamari while I had the tuna. Adamo, Lisabet and Dio all had red meat and Agnetha was vegan. Seiji was the only one to fall ill. So it must have been the calamari. It was the only thing he and I didn't share. It had been a good evening. We'd not seen Dio for ages and it was nice to meet Agnetha, I'd heard about her from phone conversations and she is a really sweet person, very quiet and gentle. Finally Dio might even settle down. To think that Agnetha is a footballers wife. You wouldn't think so to look at her or see how she behaves. A real calming influence on him. Which is good, as he's almost as much trouble as Adamo.

We watched an opera in Milan, Dio got us a box, he gets recognised all the time now and can twist people around his finger with no trouble. And after the show that lovely meal. Lovely that is except for the calamari, apparently.

Dio's driver dropped us at our _appartamento_ and we all went in for coffee. That lasted into the small hours, the laughing, the chatter. I love having friends round, especially good friends; people who are close to us and we can really talk to, not silly small talk but things that matter. Doesn't happen often enough. And then Seiji said he wasn't feeling so good and would call it a night.

They left. We did the minimum necessary and fell into bed. But it wasn't the end of the night. In fact it was just beginning. We cuddled and I drifted. I was in that lovely warm zone, that place between waking and sleep where you are thinking about things but you can't finish any sentences in your head, they trail off and hang lazily, moving smoothly in the breeze of approaching darkness. You try to go back to them to chase them down and complete your thoughts but none of them seem to matter and you wonder why you bothered.

Then I was dragged back again, a little way back to consciousness. He was restless beside me, he kept moving, turning, trying to get comfortable.

"'Sup?"  
"Don't feel good. Sorry."

He got up and sat on the edge of the bed. Now I was fully back, musty with half-sleep but returning fast.

"Your head? Too much wine?"  
"No. Stomach ache. Go back to sleep."  
"Wasn't asleep anyway."

I got out of bed and threw on a robe, it was cooler in winter. Acclimatized to the Italian seasons now, we really noticed the winter temperatures. I pulled the curtain open. It had become overcast, the weather looked bad. I went to the fridge and poured him a glass of water.

"Here. Drink."  
"Mm, thanks."

He sat for a while, holding his gut. I stood and watched the night.

"Bathroom."

He went. I waited, listening. There was a storm coming. Across the Po to the south the sky lit up, down toward Piacenza someone was getting it bad. The sky flickered with sheet lightning, below the horizon. It reflected off the clouds. God had a faulty light bulb. The storm was miles away, it was completely silent. But nearer at hand the fitful stutterings of light let me make out the treetops on the banks of the river and they were restless. Something was heading our way.

I heard him retching. I went to the bathroom door and rested my forehead on it, listening to him suffer. How much a person needs to help and comfort another at times like this, but the embarrassment of the contents of your stomach coming up keeps people apart. It sounded bad, deep repeated retches, painful ones. After a while it stopped.

There was a dull rumble of thunder, miles away. I stood there another minute. Silence. No flushing toilet, no taps running.

"Seiji? Are you alright?"

I knocked. Nothing. Knocked again. I opened the door.

"Oh, my God."

My poor lovely man hadn't even reached the toilet, it had come over him so fast. He'd collapsed on the floor and thrown up everywhere. The room stank. He was face down in his own mess. I knelt beside him, trying not to step in it. It was no good, the robe would trail in it. I took it off, bundled it up and threw it out in the hallway. The sharp acidic stench made me want to retch too. I went to the window and opened it. Then I checked him, he was unconscious, breathing was good, airway? I pushed two fingers in. Hm, clear. I sat him up and dragged him over the tiles to the wall and propped him in the corner near the shower. I ran the warm tap and got some flannels, wetting them I cleaned him: face, neck, chest, arm, stomach, leg. He didn't seem to have got it anywhere else. I opened his jaw and looked inside, poked a finger in, checking he really was clear there. I got a glass of water and rinsed his mouth out. I scrubbed him with a shower gel soaked flannel, that took away the worst of the stink from his skin.

Next, towels, dry him. I then got some floor cloths and wiped the worst of the mess into one area away from the door. A quick swill with disinfectant and mop the bits away. Getting him back to bed was a real struggle. I can lift him, just, for a very short distance but as a complete dead weight from off the floor I couldn't.

"Come on, boy."

Apologising I dragged him by his wrists into the hallway and to the bedroom. I eventually got him on the bed by a combination of lifting him under his armpits so his shoulders were up and then holding him in place with a knee in his crotch (sorry darling) I bent and got my arms round his waist. I rolled him over and turned him right way up, head on the pillow. Quick check again of his breathing. Yes, fine.

He looked terrible though.

I pulled the duvet over him. I noticed he was bathed in sweat, his skin, especially his face, was grey green. I lay a hand on his forehead and he was scalding. A fever. From this point on everything went into automatic mode, a bowl of clean cold water from the kitchen, ice cubes in it. Make more ice cubes. Piles of flannels from the laundry. I worked quickly and even though I wasn't dressed I forgot the cold. Medicine from the cupboard,

_let's see, there's nothing much _

some painkillers and some rehydrate was all we had. But nothing would stay down right now anyway. I also got the cleaning bucket and put a half inch of disinfectant in the bottom. I gathered things together and put a chair at his bedside. He was beginning to respond to the fever now, he muttered and turned his head. I sat and held a cold cloth on his forehead and with another wiped his neck, his wrists, under his arms.

More thunder, less distant this time. The stink of vomit was worse.

"Seiji, my darling, I'm not going far. Just cleaning in the next room. Call me if you need anything, hm?"  
"Uhn," he groaned, he was probably in a dream, hadn't heard me. Or what he had heard, he wouldn't understand.  
"If you need to be sick again, there's a bucket here, on the floor by the bed. On your left side. OK?"

I kissed his forehead. I opened the balcony doors a few inches to get air through. I opened them wider. Wide. Mesmerised, I watched the night sky, the flickering sheet lightning bounced and danced almost continuously. Opening curtains and doors fully I let the strange light fill the room, there was something fascinating about it. I could smell something on the air, rain was coming. Another rumble, louder.

In the bathroom I worked as fast as I could, going for maximum effect in the shortest time practical. The place would need a thorough disinfect later but at least you could walk in there now. Looking at the bathroom clock I saw it was nearly three. From time to time I looked back in the bedroom watching him. He was rolling about in his sleep, tossing and turning, muttering.

I went to the discarded clothes I'd worn earlier in the day, before we'd gone out for the evening, and from the pile I put on the sweatshirt and skirt, no underwear.

And after that it was a case of waiting. Sitting and waiting. And watching. I made coffee, good and strong and sat by him. He had a terrible night. He turned from side to side, moaning and trying to push the duvet off. The fever was burning him up but I needed to keep him warm, sweating it out would help.

Around four the storm came. I was taking a break and standing by the doors looking at the garden. Cremona was silent. It's not often I don't sleep well, I think Seiji is more restless than I in that respect, so I hardly ever see the deep silent middle of the night. I had just refreshed the flannel on his forehead, I knew he'd turn over soon and throw it off again, but for a precious while he was peaceful. I could hear his breathing, heavy and shallower than usual.

Half an hour previously the lightening had begun to change. It was coming closer, walking up the hill of the horizon, it became visible inside the clouds. Then as it marched upon me it changed to those distinctive forks, joining earth to sky. The worrying thing was they didn't stride across the sky, they just got brighter and louder. Which meant the storm was coming straight for us. The clouds above were dense, a dark steel purple grey with a solid base, as impenetrable as the side of a battleship. The thunder grew louder until I flinched with each lightning flash, knowing what was to follow. What was the old kids game? Count the seconds and for every five it's a mile away? Once you learn that on your father's knee you never forget it, and you always do it, you can't not do it. Lightning, and count, and one- two- three- four- five- and so on. And rumble. Louder than the last rumble. Wait, apprehensive, a child again. Lightning, and count, and one- two- three- and so on. And RUMBLE. Much louder. Hm, still five miles away. What will it be like when it's overhead? But as it came closer I could begin to feel it and smell it. The temperature dropped sharply. My legs were suddenly cold. I don't wear trousers, I never have. I hate them. I have only one old pair I do the painting in and one warm pair I wear for winter when it's really cold. And now it was cold, so I took off the skirt and put these on. Back at the balcony I smelled it. The rain. The rain was coming.

Seiji moaned and rolled over. I went to him and he retched again into the bucket. Kneeling I held it for him while his diaphragm painfully cramped again and again. _FLASH._ There was nothing left to come up. What remained of the poison would have to go down. Hm, the fun of that should arrive later in the night _BANG – ROARRRRRRR ow, that one's close_ or tomorrow morning.

The crash of thunder had that sharp solid edge to it now, the kind of sound that shocks the ears, offending you with the knifeblade of its suddenness. Painfully pushing in your eardrums with its simple presence. No longer a distant thing that rumbled and you could enjoy because it indicated someone else's misfortune, now it was near, very near and it began to be scary, as though it was coming after you and it was now a personal thing.

I wiped his mouth and the sour dribble from his chin and heaved him back into bed. His arm lifted and gripped mine.

"Sh… Shu…"  
"Shush, now, it's OK, try and sleep."  
"Sh-zuuuuu…"  
"Shhh, yes, I'm here."  
"Zuuuu-kuuuuu…"  
"Shhh…"  
"Huuuuurts…"  
"I'm here, I love you"

I leaned over and held him, pressing his head to my shoulder. Smelling his hair. He coughed. He was shaking and clammy. _FLASH! __oh my God, close, it's close now  
_  
And one- The bang that followed shook the building, I jumped in fright, it had been impossible to count past one. It was here, right over us, the roaring rumbling _afterwards_ of the sound reverberated around me, all across the city. Car alarms sang, like birds before dawn. I sat on the edge of the bed and held him hard against me, as much to comfort myself as to offer comfort.

I looked at the garden and saw it coming, in the next lightning flash, a little way from us was a wall, a tall endless wall as though of a glacier, made of shimmering grey and moving, breathing. Through it faintly visible were the roofs and chimneys of buildings, the tops of trees. I saw it only for an instant, as in the flash of a camera. The next thunder crack came and something rattled in the kitchen. I yelped in fear and shrank down instinctively, trying to make myself a smaller target for whatever it was my mind tried to escape from. Another flash and the wall of water was upon us, I could see it half way across the garden, some of our pine trees were silhouetted against it, the remainder already hazy, swallowed up and bending to the sudden load. I have never seen rain like it, not the weight of it, nor its approach like that, tsunami-like. The next offensive roar of sound coincided with its arrival and our four square metres of tiled balcony vanished under the pounding wall, instantly it was awash, an inch of water and within a minute, two inches. There were rainwater runoffs from it but these could hardly cope. Fortunately there is a step down from the bedroom and we were not flooded out (I smiled, three floors up) but even so I went to the doorway and watched this magnificent spectacle, my senses overcome with its violence and splendour. We had endured bad storms in Japan sometimes but never anything like this. As the thunder boomed and roared around us, over us, it was like being inside a drum.

I was awake all that night. I sat by him, wiping his brow, holding his hand and talking to him when he talked. He wouldn't hear me but he might feel my presence. Through his fever he would speak disjointed things, mutterings and half words I mostly couldn't catch, but from time to time a word would come clearly, names usually, my name, or a call for "mom" or "grandpa" and once a complete sentence came through,

"Father, I don't care, I _am_ going to marry her. You can't stop me."

I held his hand and watched his face as pain and emotion swirled there. Some other words came too, bad words that I won't repeat, and things best left unsaid entirely, things I have never repeated back to him. I hold them in my heart and wonder what they mean, but console myself that in a fever the mind is drawn out and stretched beyond what it can usually stand, and from deep below, from the unconscious, fears and hopes you do not face while waking, are drawn pitifully out and exposed. These are not things he has ever mentioned to me awake, nor even in normal dreams, they are far down inside and there they should stay.

I listened to the storm receding, marching away like a blindly raging Gulliver over Lilliputian Cremona, his boot heels crashing down and grinding. The rain lessened after the first five minutes but remained heavy and steady for over an hour.

I went through the flannels and the cold water and refreshed both. Around five thirty I ran out of ice, I was using it faster than the freezer could make it.

And then, worst of all, worse even than that terrible noise and that mindless wall of water, and even the horrible things he showed me from his unconscious, the poison sought another outlet from his system. He moaned, part conscious and got out of bed. I led him to the bathroom and sat him down and the evil pollutants left him, gasping and weak. This was worse than the vomit, even though I didn't need to clean up. However, I did need to wipe him, like a baby that soils itself and is unaware of what it's doing, I had to wipe his soiled body and drag him back to bed. I thought of my wedding vows: for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health and came to know that long dismal night what those vows meant. I served him every minute because he was unable to help himself, even the basics, the most primitive acts of hygiene were beyond him, so I did those for him. And if it hadn't been for the strength of those wedding vows, and how much I cared for him, I wouldn't have been able to do this. I thought of what it would be like if I were ill, this sick and this vulnerable and helpless. Yes, he'd do this for me, wipe me clean, wipe my intimate places even though the act made him retch he'd do it, I knew he would. And the comfort I drew from knowing that drove me on. This was sharing I suppose. When you consider marriage and sharing your life with another person you don't think of things like this but this is one of the real tests. Care for a sick person in this way and you are almost there, showing almost all you need to. I suppose the only greater devotion would be to a person severely injured or handicapped and unable to help themselves, or a child born brain damaged in which your whole life would become merely a caring supporting act. Or perhaps, for the elderly, when their mind unhinges and they can no longer cope, and you become a nurse, a companion, a cook and a cleaner. Thinking of these examples I realised how lucky we were, what amazingly happy and downright fortunate lives we had.

Humbled, I prayed that night, as the first tints of dawn came creeping over holding the skirts of the storm. I prayed my thanks for our carefree lives, and wept.

Towards seven he finally stopped moaning and cursing and fell into a deeper sleep. I stripped and climbed into bed beside him and held him, and exhausted, despite the night, thankful for what it had taught me, I slept.

-o-oOo-o-

It was light but for a moment I could make no sense of my surroundings. I felt as though I had slept for hours but my bedside clock sagely advised me it had been merely two. I sat up and held my head. It felt like a wet sponge, useless and floppy. Coffee. Coffee was the cure for this. And headache tablets. And brushing my teeth. A three way cure all for a bad night, patent pending.

I did the necessary, throwing on clothes and doing the rounds to bathroom, medicine cabinet, kitchen. Carrying a scalding mug back into the bedroom I glanced at him. Still sleeping, laying on his back his greyish pallid skin was finally dry, the sweating had eased, his tangled mass of hair wound around his face. I dragged a few strands away and touched a palm to his forehead. Warm, but better, the fever's back had broken. His features were no longer contorted in pain and stress but relaxed. I sat at the bedside and drank the coffee. He was the coffee expert in this household and I had never mastered the mysteries of that big silver machine that mocked me from the corner, mocked my clumsy attempts to get it to deliver drinkable espresso. So I'd made instant, and it was foul. Bitter and way too strong with a revolting sludge at the bottom. I drank it all down with relish. It was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted.

I watched his sleeping face, wiping away a few stray hairs from his forehead. He looked awful, his skin the colour of cheap industrial paper hand towels. He stank as well, when he was able to I'd make him use my bath. Not a quick shower, that wouldn't do. He needed a good long soak. I'd help him, I'd climb in with him and scrub away this awful night. I looked forward to doing that. After the things I'd had to do in the last hours it would be a pleasant diversion.

I ate a quick breakfast and did a cursory check round the _appartamento_ for any damage, water in anywhere, cracked windows or fallen pictures. We'd been lucky, I'm sure one or more of the lightning strikes had been close, the _Torrazzo_ had probably been hit but looking at it through the dull dawn rain it seemed OK. I washed and got dressed properly (isn't it amazing how just brushing your hair makes you feel so much better), phoned his workshop (Fabrizio is so sweet, mad as a hatter but very sweet with it), selected a book and made a fresh coffee and returned to his bedside. I tried to read but couldn't, so I talked to him. I told him about the book I was writing and how much I was in love with the male character I'd created. He worked in a Tokyo museum and bought musical instruments and had to deal with clever fakes. I think I loved him because there was some Seiji in him. My voice trailed off, I didn't want to talk either. I knew what I wanted to do. I moved the chair away, got on my knees, drew down the duvet and lay my head on his bare chest, nuzzling up under his chin. He didn't smell very nice, my nose wrinkled at the mixture of vomit, disinfectant, shower gel and sweat. But under all that there was still a hint of him, an earthy, woody, oily scent. It reminded me of grandpa's workshop all those years ago and that first evening I'd seen him. Here was where I needed to be, doing nothing but have contact with him, smelling nothing but him, feeling nothing but his heart and his ragged breathing.

There was movement, an arm lifted and came over me, on my shoulder. His head turned trying to look at me but I was too close, too low.

"Welcome back," I said  
"Thirsty," was his only greeting.

He would be alright now, the poison had gone from his body, and soon he would sit up and look about him and be maddeningly well again. Hungry and moving around the rooms, filling them, getting in my way, talking when I needed peace, helping me cook when I really only wanted to cook for him, and most maddening of all, being at work when I needed him in my arms.

But for now, for a few more minutes I wanted him to stay ill so I could remain here and hold him and do nothing but smell that unappealing hospital-like mix of scents but hiding at the bottom of which was his.

-o-oOo-o-

A week went by and I began to feel something, something coming, the feeling I have when a story is hatching and itching inside me and it needs scratching. Days like that I will switch on the laptop and just let spew out whatever it is that needs scratching. Often junk will emerge and I'll know it was a false alarm. But sometimes something worthwhile is born and it will either be a sketch of a character or a skeleton of a scene or even some notes that become a plan for a story.

But this day what came out was something quite unheard of with me. A poem. It wasn't right at first and needed a great deal of messing with before it began to take the shape I felt comfortable with. And in the end some six weeks went by before I was happy with it. A tweak or two here and there and it was done. And when it was done, not only was I happy with it, but I was delighted. I even felt that it might work to music, so rather mischievously, one day I printed it out and mailed it to Seiji's workshop, so he would come across it first when I wasn't around and he could take it in without interference from me.

I wondered how long it would be before he mentioned it but a month went by, then two until one day in late April he came home, picked up a violin, a scrap of paper and dragged me outside into the garden.

He stood and played. I listened, as I had so many times. It was a lovely tune, wistful, sad and enduring. It wrenched at something inside me and pulled it loose. As so often when he plays the loose bit inside me made me leak. With my eyes already wet and my heart already aching he thrust the piece of paper at me. It was the poem and he'd added some musical notes and guide points.

"In D minor and you come in after two bars, let's just see how it goes."  
"I can't sing, I'm almost on the verge of crying."  
"You sing best then, like you did at our wedding. Singing and crying together when it comes from you is perfect. Lets try."

Well we had a go, and a few more goes and a few arguments and some laughs. It's hard when you've written verse and have an idea how it might sound to music, but then go and do something stupid like allow yourself no input at all in the song writing part. So what he'd done wasn't what I'd have done but it did grow on me after a time. And eventually, although not that evening, I came to love that song. It's called Lullaby For a Stormy Night, and unfortunately you can't hear the tune, but I can show you the words.

Little child, be not afraid  
The rain pounds harsh against the glass  
Like an unwanted stranger  
There is no danger  
I am here tonight

Little child, be not afraid  
Though thunder explodes  
And lightning flash  
Illuminates your tear stained face  
I am here tonight

And someday you'll know  
That nature is so  
This same rain that draws you near me  
Falls on rivers and land  
And forests and sand  
Makes the beautiful world that you see  
In the morning

Little child  
Be not afraid  
The storm clouds mask your beloved moon  
And its candlelight beams  
Still keep pleasant dreams  
I am here tonight

Little child, be not afraid  
The wind makes creatures of our trees  
And the branches to hands  
They're not real, understand  
And I am here tonight

And someday you'll know  
That nature is so  
This same rain that draws you near me  
Falls on rivers and land  
And forest and sand  
Makes the beautiful world that you see  
In the morning

For you know, once even I  
Was a little child  
And I was afraid  
But a gentle someone always came  
To dry all my tears  
Trade sweet sleep for fears  
And to give a kiss goodnight

Well, now I am grown  
And these days have shown  
Rain's a part of how life goes  
But it's dark and it's late  
So I'll hold you and wait  
'til your frightened eyes do close

And I hope that you'll know  
That nature is so  
This same rain that draws you near me  
Falls on rivers and land  
And forests and sand  
Makes the beautiful world that you see  
In the morning

Everything's fine in the morning  
The rain will be gone in the morning  
But I'll still be here in the morning

And now, when he plays this, and I sing it, and the mood is right, it makes me cry. Partly because of his playing (and because I look at his face when he's playing) and partly because I remember a terrible stormy night when everything went wrong and in his fever he said dreadful secret things from deep inside and my keeping those secrets puts me somehow both in his debt and he in mine, locking us together.

And when he hears me sing and almost come to tears at the same time, he says he feels like crying too.

_27 Feb – __1 Mar 2007_

Note: no, I didn't write it. I wish I had. It's another song by the gorgeously talented _Vienna__ Teng. Please listen to it, it's magical._


	7. Episode 6 : Friday After School

**Episode Six – Friday After School  
**  
_November 1994, Tama New Town_

She suddenly stopped walking and after a few paces the others did too.

"You go on, I want to wait here, I'll see you Monday."  
"What are you waiting for?" the shorter girl asked  
"Nao, don't be so nosey!"  
"It's a perfectly reasonable question. Is it a boy, Yuko?"  
"I'm not going to answer that! Get off with you, I'll tell you on Monday."  
"Right, make sure you do. We want to hear everything, every delicious detail!"  
"Nao, leave her alone. C'mon, let's go, there's this new single I want you to hear. Poko's Music Store just got them in."  
"OK, have a good weekend, Yuko."  
"Yeah, and you. Bye!"

Kinu and Nao went on ahead. Yuko stood, looking back the way they had come, bag held in front of her knees, watching the passing children and the traffic. She knew he was behind them, she'd been conscious of him being there since they'd left school. He was with a few of his baseball team mates. She was even prepared to talk to him in front of them. Well, maybe, depends how they are behaving when they come by, she thought.

The group of boys came round the corner. Chattering, laughing and swaggering. Yuko felt nervous, her heart beat a little faster.

-o-oOo-o-

It had been such a strange day, Shizuku had breezed into class with a big smile on her face, walking like she was floating on air. Her whole character was so changed from what she'd been like these last few weeks. At the end of the first period, unable to hold her curiosity in any longer, Yuko had spoken.

"You're happy, is it a boy thing?"

Shizuku had turned round, her face one huge smile.

"You will never guess what happened this morning. Something woke me up really early, I don't know why, it wasn't even light. I looked out the window and... _He_ was there. Waiting! On his bike! He came back a day early!"  
"Seiji?"  
"Hm! I went down and he took me for a bike ride, at dawn! It was lovely. We went miles to a hilltop. We saw the sunrise," Shizuku blushed, "he even told me he loved me."  
"Oh, Shizuku, that's fantastic! I'm so happy! You two were made for each other. Oh, this is great, such good news."  
"How are you getting on with you-know-who? Any progress yet?"  
"No. Nothing. I keep offering to help him with study time, and I even watched one of his baseball matches at the beginning of the week, cheering in all the right places but he just doesn't seem to get it."  
"He will, Yuko, he will. I thought Seiji was a complete idiot at first but I just got the wrong end of the story completely. I found out he's liked me for a long time."  
"He has? Well, what a sneak! He kept that quiet."  
"Hm!" Shizuku beamed, "Well, if I get the chance I'll drop a good word in for you with, you know, _him_."  
"Thanks, but don't make me out to be desperate or something."

-o-oOo-o-

At lunchtime Yuko couldn't find Shizuku at all. Nao and Kino hadn't seen her, not even Mich. Yuko assumed she must be hiding somewhere with Seiji, so she ate alone with Kousaka-Sensei, they talked about dieting, it was Yuko's new topic of interest.

-o-oOo-o-

"Sugimura, wait there!"

The boy stopped, turned. Shizuku ran up to him, red faced and breathless. She had just caught him, right at the end of lunch break, he'd been messing about doing some pitching with his friends and was returning to class. Shizuku had been talking with Seiji about what Cremona was like when she suddenly realized she wanted to talk to Sugi. She'd run all the way here from the roof.

She bent over, hands on knees panting.

"Yeah, what is it?"

She looked at him, he still looked wary and a little awkward when she was near, even though it had been over two months since _that_ afternoon. Shizuku remembered it clearly, she thought she'd probably remember that horrible ten minutes by the shrine until the day she died, so it was no wonder Sugimura went on the defensive when she spoke to him. What must the memory be like for him?

"After school, you've not got club practice have you?"  
"No, 'course not, it's Friday."  
"You know the bus stop, on the high wall?"  
"Sure, what of it?"  
"There will be someone waiting there for you. Talk to them, I think you'll be surprised."  
"Who? Some player? We don't need anyone else for the team."  
"Not a player, silly. A _girl_."  
"A girl? Playing baseball?"

Shizuku rolled her eyes. Were all boys this dense?

"No, not anyone for the team, boy or girl. Just a girl."  
"Uh, why?"  
"Why? What do you mean _why? _Because she likes you!"  
"Who?"  
"Just be at the bus stop. You know where I mean?"  
"Yeah, on the raised causeway, I know."  
"Bye then! See you in class."

Shizuku grinned and ran off. Sugimura watched her go. Girls. Hm. Crazy, all of them. Talked a lot of nonsense about long haired gorillas in pop bands half the time and spent the other half talking in riddles. And why was Shizuku of all people so keen to hitch him up with someone? Sugimura smelled a rat.

-o-oOo-o-

At the end of the first afternoon period Shizuku got her chance. Otomo-Sensei was always late getting to math class so she knew she had a few minutes to talk. She turned in her seat.

"Yuko, you don't have club or cram school Fridays do you?"  
"No, thank heaven. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday is enough!"  
"Good. Stop at the bus stop and wait on the way home, the one on the high concrete causeway, you know it?"  
"I know it. Why?"  
"Sugimura walks home that way. I overheard him saying to his mates he had no club activities today. Now's your chance!"  
"Well, I'm not sure. Kinu and Nao are walking into town with me today, they're bound to be suspicious."  
"Tell them you have to go back to school. Tell them you forgot something."  
"Well, I'll see. I told you not to tell him. You didn't did you?"  
"Just wait at the bus stop."

Shizuku turned back to front of class, the Sensei had just come in. The class rep spoke.

"All stand. Bow. And be seated."

As she sat again, Shizuku saw him looking at her, two desks away. Sugimura gave her a very suspicious look, then he glanced at Yuko. He looked back and Shizuku gave him her nicest smile.

-o-oOo-o-

She watched them, he was there, one of the smaller ones, more nimble and quick on his feet, a good pitcher he was, she watched him pitch sometimes when she knew he didn't know she was there.

Then something really odd happened. He pushed away from the group of boys, slung his bag over his shoulder, waved to them and ran on ahead. Right towards her. She watched him running. He saw her and slowed. He stopped a little way away.

"Uh, hi."  
"Hi."  
"You waiting for the bus?"  
"No. Are you catching it?"  
"No, going into town. Uh, sports shop. Uh…"  
"Oh."  
"Wanna walk with me?"  
"Oh. Um, yes, alright."

He walked past her, she turned, he was already a couple of paces ahead. She made the move, the first pace, the very first one. She went with him.

"What sport shop you going to?"  
"EliteSport, by the station."  
"I know it. What are you buying?"  
"I need a new glove, this one's starting to come apart along the seam."  
"It looks fine to me."  
"How would you know?"  
"I saw it, the day before yesterday."  
"You did? When?"  
"Um, it was on the bench, by your bag, when you were batting…"

_Oops, Yuko, don't let on too much._

"You were there, Wednesday? When we won?"  
"I was just passing, on my way to swimming club you know."  
"Right."

He nodded at her slightly, he didn't look convinced.

They walked in silence to the shop and he fussed about along the shelves, he tried a few gloves but couldn't get into the groove of buying, he said sorry he really needed more time. Shopping for baseball kit was a serious business, it could take hours.

"That's OK, I'm happy waiting."

She was, she found she really was. He was just nice to be near, nice to watch.

"No, this must be boring for you, sports shopping. I really need to come back another time."  
"I'm sorry, am I in your way?"  
"Uh, no, no, not at all. It must just be dull for you though."  
"Alright. What do you want to do?"  
"Uh…"  
"Do you know Misato's?"  
"The bar?"  
"Yes."  
"That's always full of girls. Giggling. Like monkeys."  
"I go in there a lot!"  
"Uh, yeah, well," he went pink and rubbed his fingers up through his hair, "I didn't know you went there."  
"The girls only giggle when a boy comes in they like."  
"Ah."  
"So if they always giggle when you go in…"  
"Well, OK, as long as it's not too full."  
"Of monkeys?"  
"Monkeys, yeah."

It wasn't too full, being Friday lots of the high school kids had gone into town or to the movies, so the bar wasn't more than half full. Yuko asked Sugi what he wanted.

"I'll get these."  
"No, I want to. I invited you."  
"I'm the boy."  
"I know you are. But this is my treat. You can buy next time."

There'll be a next time? Sugimura thought about that and decided yes, it would be nice to have a next time. She was OK, pretty cool, she seemed to have an interest in baseball anyway, so she wasn't all clueless. And she didn't seem to be a giggler.

"Sugi! I said what do you want?"  
"Oh, just a Coke is fine."  
"A Coke and a banana shake please."

They took their drinks to the back of the bar. There were some squishy seats here, sofas for two and some armchairs, some arty black and white prints on the wall, it was a nice corner. A two seat sofa was empty and they sat.

"Thanks."  
"You're welcome."

They drank.

"So, are you busy most evenings?"  
"Tuesdays and Thursdays is cram school, Wednesdays is swimming."  
"You're in the swimming club?"  
"Hm, it's good exercise, I can do thirty lengths now."  
"Whoa, that's good. Are you going in the team for next summers sport event?"  
"I hope so."  
"I'll cheer you on."  
"Thanks, you'll be in the baseball though won't you?"  
"Sure, we're gonna kick ass, we're hot, no one can touch us."  
"You're a good pitcher."  
"Have you been spying on me?"  
"Well, not spying. But I heard all the monkeys giggling and wondered what they were looking at, so…"

She trailed off. He looked a little perturbed, a little overawed.

"Well you're a top student aren't you? Everyone thinks you work real hard. What are you, tenth in the school?"  
"Eleventh, but thanks for noticing."  
"Yeah, cram school. That must be hard."  
"Sometimes, but it's rewarding too."  
"Do you get free time at the weekends?"  
"Not much, Saturdays is studying. We usually do a family thing Saturday evenings. Sundays is quieter."  
"You busy this Sunday?"  
"Katsura Sugimura, are you asking me out on a date?"

She looked at him, trying to appear proper and at the same time sound pleased.

"Uh, well. That is. I think so. If you'd like to…"  
"What had you got in mind?"  
"Um, er, the Kobi Gardens are nice this time of year."  
"They are? In November?"  
"Well, OK, then. Maybe not. Do you wanna go round the shops?"

_Anything actually, Sugimura, anything at all. If you're there, I don't mind._

"Yeah, sure, sounds fun."  
"It does?"  
"Hm."  
"OK, I'll meet you here. At two?"  
"Good."  
"It's a date then?"  
"It is."

They smiled at each other.

"I ought to be going. I help mom cook on Fridays."  
"Oh, right, sure. You don't live far from here do you?"  
"No, about half way back to the school in fact. What about you?"  
"I get the train, three stops to Ochikawa."  
"Well, I'll have to come there sometime, you can show me your neighbourhood."  
"I'd like that. We have a great swimming pool. It has a wave machine and slide tubes and everything."  
"Oh, we must go. Well, better be going."  
"Yuko, thanks. Thanks for coming."  
"No problem. It was fun. See you Sunday."

They stood outside on the pavement. His walk to the station lay one way, hers to her house the other.

"Well, bye."  
"Bye."

They stood, just looking.

"See you then."  
"Yeah, safe journey."

Still, no one went.

"Yuko?"  
"Yes."  
"You go first."  
"No, you go first."  
"Let's go together then."  
"Alright."  
"Yeah. Bye."  
"Go on then."  
"No, together."

Neither wanted to leave, both wanted to stay. To be here. With the other one.

"This is silly."  
"Let's count to three and both go."  
"Alright."  
"One, two, three!"

They turned, they began to walk. Sugimura had taken twenty paces when he looked back. A warm buzz went through him, she was walking away, and she was looking back too. He raised an arm. And so did she.

Whistling he ran to the station.

-o-oOo-o-

Mistao's Bar wasn't really a proper date, but it was the first day they met. Their first meeting out of school. So in the end I suppose it does count. Misato's is gone now and an upmarket restaurant is in it's place, but Sugimura and Yuko still go there even now, thirteen years later, they go there every year, on their anniversary. Not their wedding anniversary, no, but on November 11, the anniversary of the day they met.

Yuko never did tell Sugimura it was Shizuku who told her to wait at the bus stop. And Sugimura, knowing no different, thinking Yuko didn't know, never told her that it was Shizuku who had told him. They each kept it a secret with Shizuku, and she, as she is so good at doing, kept it a secret within herself.

_21 Mar 2007  
_


	8. Episode 7 : Sleepover Part 1 : Morning

**Episode Seven – Sleepover Part 1 : Morning  
**  
_March 2004, Tama New Town_

Shizuku opened her eyes and let the lovely warm cosy feeling come over her.

Belonging.

She belonged here. She and Seiji had lived in Cremona now for – hm, what? – four and a half years? Yet she felt that _this_ was home. It was funny that despite living in Italy, speaking the language, eating the food and working there, it had taken only a few days – a week at most for her to know, completely and absolutely and deep within her heart, _know_ her home was here. Right here in this place where she and Seiji had met in early September – that last year in middle school. Wow, ten years ago.

_Ten years._

When they'd been fourteen.

Gosh. Children. They'd been no more than children. And yet, somehow, through it all, they'd stayed together. All through high school, got married, emigrated to Italy, he'd started working in the violin workshop, she'd got a great job as an interpreter and now here they were back again for a few weeks visiting their families.

Right here.

Home was right here.

In fact… right under this bed in the small back room of the house, two floors down pretty much exactly below her right now was where he'd had his workbench and where she'd seen him that evening she'd come here upset because of that lovely but dopey Sugimura confessing to her at the shrine. She'd come here, talked to that big fat stroppy cat, met Seiji and he'd shown her the doll and his violins and then… well, that was pretty much it. Thinking back, and being honest with herself, she knew that she'd fallen in love with him that very first evening.

Which is why, here in the Earth Shop (although it hadn't been a shop for nine years now) Shizuku felt she was truly home.

-o-oOo-o-

Yumiko, Seiji's mother, had invited them back to visit for a month. The Earth Shop was between tenants so they had stayed in it. They'd celebrated Seiji's 24th birthday two weeks ago along with his parents, Shizuku's parents and Yuuko and Sugimura with that amazing meal at the Shinjuku Keio Plaza Hotel. How much it must have cost Seiji's father she daren't think. A lot, anyway.

But heck, it wasn't often they all met up. _And_ Seiji deserved it. He'd got himself the best wife in the world after all hadn't he? That had been a struggle. After all that arguing with his dad and that long traumatic talk with Shizuku's father. So he deserved it. Cut the guy some slack.

After that the two of them had spent a week on holiday with Yuuko and Sugi over near Niigata walking in the hills and discovering again how totally useless Yuuko was at holding her alcohol. Oh, yeah, _that_ had been fun. A bit mad some nights but fun all the same. It was good too. Sugi was finally chilling out a little and becoming more relaxed around Yuuko. He'd seemed so nervous and hung up when they'd left for Italy five years ago. A bit of a prude even.

Shizuku lifted her arms and laced her fingers together behind her head, stretched and smiled. Yes, that crazy evening they'd slept at her house when her parents had been out and Yuuko'd got falling down drunk and taken her pyjamas off and poor old Sugi, red as a beetroot, had been forced to propose to her just to calm her down and get her back into her clothes.

And then last night. Ooh, wow, last night…

Shizuku chuckled. The person next to her mumbled in his sleep and turned over. His arm flopped across her stomach. It rested there a moment, the hand stroking the bare skin in small unconscious circles. Her monthly tummy rubs Shizuku thought of them. What a sweetie he was taking care of her when she got all grumpy and cross with him five days in every twenty eight. Shizuku began to count silently in her head.

One, two, three, four…

She thought it wouldn't take ten seconds, it hardly ever did. His record was four but he wasn't on form this morning.

_Drank too much last night, that's why._

She got to six and the hand moved. She smiled again, _here we go_. At first the hand merely described slightly bigger circles but then it began to slide upwards, still circling. It traveled over the dome of her tummy and off the softest part of her and onto her lower ribs. Still lazily circling as though lost the hand swept around once more and the fingertips rose over the lowest curve of her chest and passed. They came around again, higher, this time sweeping over half her shape before sliding away again.

_Next one_, she thought, _I guarantee it, next one_.

The sweeping hand came around again. It swept onto the woman curve of her and stopped. For a second or two the hand was still, it merely held her gently. Then, as though following a script, the fingers moved, tested the tip of her and finding her soft gave her the lightest of squeezes, the lightest of rubs.

Her body reacted. As it always did.

Bingo! Mr. Predictable was back. Wanting some early morning fun.

"I know you're awake."  
"Hmmm…?"  
"Don't pretend to me, I know it's not an accident."  
"Wha?"  
"Look, we've been married five years, you can stop being shy you know."

He opened one eye. She shut one. Single eye to single eye they shared a brief Cyclops-style staring contest. He opened his second eye and so did she.

" 'Morning," she greeted him.  
" 'Morning. Wha's happenin'?" furry with sleep he was like a big cuddly toy.  
"I think I should be asking you that."

She pushed the duvet down to her waist, uncovering them both and looked down at his hand where it caressed her chest. The point of her was stiff enough now that his fingers were rolling it gently to and fro.

"Hm?"  
"Did you want something?"  
"Hm."  
"Well ask nicely, don't just grope me like a dirty old man."  
"Cuddles."  
"Was that a noun, an adjective or a request?"  
"Request…"

She turned on her side to face him. His hand slipped off her.

"What sort of cuddles are involved in this so eloquently articulated proposition?"  
"Pardon?"  
"Do you want nice cuddles or naughty cuddles?"  
"Hrm…n…"  
"Don't be shy, little boy, we're all grown up adults here. You can say the word, no-one will be offended."  
"Naughty cuddles…"

She looked at him, his face tucked down against her neck, his mop of long black hair down to below his shoulder. She ran one hand through it, letting her fingers comb it's buoyant wiry mass.

"I see. And do you think you deserve naughty cuddles this morning? After what happened last night?"

His head pulled away from the fragrant hollow of her neck, eyes snapped wide open.

"Last night?"  
"Was it that bad? You don't remember?"  
"Uh…"  
"You do remember."  
"Hm, yeah… think so."

In her minds eye, if he'd been standing up he'd have his hand up on the back of his scalp now, running his fingers through his hair, thinking.

"You _think_ so? Well I don't _think_ so. I _know_ so."  
"Hm. Did I really kiss her?"  
"Yes, you did. Really, really. Not just a quickie either. The tongue factor was way up beyond reasonable."  
"Ah. Sorry."  
"And I thought it was Yuuko who couldn't hold her booze. I'd never thought I'd see the day when sensible Seiji Amasawa got drunk and started snogging his wife's best friend!"  
"You should've stopped me!"  
"It happened so fast!"  
"Sure it happened fast but after the first minute you should have said something!"  
"So you do remember!"  
"Yes, alright. I admit it. I said sorry."  
"Seiji you were drunk. You should have known better. You know what Yuuko is like after the first bottle. She's totally… well, she's not a person to take advantage of. And take your hand off my bottom!"

His hand, lacking a breast to squeeze, had returned to her flank and slid down, over the curve of her hip and round and behind and _under_. At which point, feeling his fingers beginning to explore, Shizuku smacked the hand away, turned and sat on the edge of the bed.

"So why didn't you stop me?" he made the obvious comeback.  
"Well…"  
"Well, what?"  
"I was…"  
"You were what? What were _you_ doing?"

Seiji tried to recall the details. The four of them had gone out to a bar, had a few drinks, got into a good mood, laughing and happy. Then – hm, yes, that was right – then Shizuku had said she was hungry so they'd gone for a meal, nothing fancy just an outside bench table and ramen but then Yuuko had ordered sake to go with it. Then more sake and then Shizuku had ordered some and then… well, then it had just got silly.

You know Yuuko was the worst but when Shizuku got together with her she was almost as bad. They'd left the noodle bar more or less vertical and tried to get down the road to the taxi rank but half way down the two girls were arm in arm laughing like idiots and staggering about so much they turned around and started lurching back the way they'd come.

So Seiji had looked at Sugimura (who was almost completely sober) and Sugimura had looked at Seiji and they'd sighed and shrugged and agreed silently that enough was enough. The two men had moved in to untangle the four-legged, four-armed, twin-headed pissed-as-a-lord monster that used to be Seiji's wife and Sugi's fiancée when things suddenly happened.

They just did.

They happened.

No-one intended it, no-one planned it.

It's the way these things just… _happen_.

The four-legged, four-armed, twin-headed pissed-as-a-lord monster suddenly became an eight-legged, eight-armed, four-headed half-pissed-half-annoyed "stop this childish crap right now!" monster, and Yuuko had swung at Sugi and caught him a really good slap. Very impressive. Sugi had gone flying backwards off in the direction of Okinawa and Seiji had moved in to both protect him from further violence and to calm Yuuko down.

Yuuko, for reasons known only to her tiny sake-and-Chablis-befuddled mind, had suddenly realised what she'd done and decided that a good kiss and make up was what Sugimura needed. Only by then he was passing somewhere over Kyoto and still accelerating and Seiji was (by pure chance, honest) occupying the piece of real estate that Yuuko assumed her fiancée was.

Which is why, in a nutshell, when a middle aged couple came past a moment later to see Sugimura sitting up on a pile of garbage bags rubbing his cheek and thinking he might need to check his dental records, Shizuku standing on the other side of the alleyway holding onto a power pole like it was the mast of a sinking ship, and the girl with long red hair in the blue dress hanging onto the boy in the Italian linen suit and kissing him deeply and passionately and apologizing to the boy she loved and wanted to marry, the lady had said something about how sweet it was to _still see traditional lovers these days._

Yes, Seiji recalled, running his fingertips over his lips, that was about the size of it. That's what had happened.

"Well?" he asked his wife's bare back, "Why didn't you stop us?"  
"Because…"  
"Hm…?"  
"Because I was _watching_."

-o-oOo-o-

"Oh."

Seiji was trying to work out what that meant. Was it good news or bad? Shizuku looked at him over her shoulder.

"What do you mean? What sort of watching?" he asked.

She went pink.

"I'm glad I married you."  
"You're changing the subject."  
"No I'm not. I was going to say I'm glad I married you because now I know how gorgeous you look when you kiss."

Seiji wasn't sure how to react to that.

"I'll buy us some mirrors then."  
"You know I wasn't going to let you have naughty cuddles this morning," she said, speaking again to the floor between her bare feet, "because you should have stopped you know, shouldn't you? Once she found out she wasn't kissing the boy she thought."  
"Uh, yeah, you're right. But it was just a crazy moment. Ah, sorry."  
"No it's okay. I forgive you. Because..."

Shizuku turned around and gave Seiji such a strange look that he almost got up and kissed her on the spot. She looked guilty and (unknown for her) mildly embarrassed, but at the same time she wore that delicious hot teasing look as well, that look that once he saw it he just knew that any plans for anything sensible he might have had may as well be scrapped until she'd got her fill of whatever heat it was that was eating sweetly away at her centre. Yup, it was _that_ look.

"You did look good. You and Yuuko. Together. It made me feel…"  
"Uh…"  
"_That_ way."  
"Aah… right…"  
"I was going to demand breakfast in bed from you. Because of… you know… kissing her. But then I thought, well actually it _was_ an accident. At first. And then the two of you did look like you were enjoying it. And I enjoyed watching you… Um."  
"What are you saying?"  
"Tonight." She became all eager and bouncy, "We were going to go to a movie with them weren't we?"  
"Yeah, the Cowboy Bebop movie is being screened again at the Tama Plaza."  
"Let's give that a miss. Let's invite them round here. Let's have a sleepover!"  
"A sleepover? Like kids do?"  
"Not just kids, like we did the day before we left for Italy."  
"Uh, okay. But why… you're not thinking funny stuff are you?"  
"I'll phone Yuuko this morning. We can go shopping this afternoon and get some more food in."  
"Shizuku…?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Are you sure you're not planning anything… you know… strange?"  
"But first," she jumped up, happy and kitteny, "tea. I'll make you some tea."

She threw on her yellow silk robe and dashed down the stairs. Seiji got up more slowly, put on his own robe more slowly and went down stairs more slowly too, his head turning over various odd thoughts, some of them just perplexing, some of them surprisingly attractive.

If Shizuku wasn't too upset about him kissing Yuuko. And she wanted to invite her and Sugi round for the night. And if she kissed him… and if they were all in the same room… Seiji stood on the upper balcony and visualized a scenario that while pretty far fetched, wasn't he discovered to his surprise, not that unattractive.

-o-oOo-o-

"So, let's get this straight. Sugimura gets walloped into the middle of next week. I go in to save him from further permanent disfigurement and meanwhile Yuuko realises she's done wrong, grabs him and kisses him to say sorry."

They were sat out on the upper balcony watching the distant Shibuya district wake up to an unseasonably warm Saturday morning. Shizuku sipped her tea.

"Only it wasn't him she grabbed, but you."  
"But that wasn't my fault."  
"I never said it was. It gets complicated only once she realised her mistake and you stayed there!"  
"She wouldn't let me go!"  
"So the bit I distinctly heard about "Oh, Seiji! It's you… Please stop…" followed by another 120 seconds of tongue gymnastics was my imagination, hm?"  
"She wasn't exactly pushing me away. When a girl says please stop and grips onto you tighter… well you had to have been there."

He looked at her and saw a very odd look on her face. Like maybe she wished she had been there.

"You wouldn't?" he asked, incredulous.  
"What?"  
"Want to kiss Yuuko!"  
"And I suppose you wouldn't want to watch?"

Seiji went back to drinking his tea. She hadn't answered the question, had she? He noticed his tea was shaking. It turned out to be his hands.

"I'm surprised you even remember what she and I were doing. Weren't you climbing the south face of Mount Sugimura by then?"  
"I was not climbing him, I fell on him."  
"Yeah right."  
"I did too. You guys were playing cannibals for beginners so I thought I'd make sure Sugimura was okay."  
"And was he?"

A pause.

A small voice.

"Yeah."  
"Go on."  
"He was sat in this pile of stinking garbage bags, so I gave him an arm to help him out and he pulled and I…"  
"Fell. Hm, how convenient."

Shizuku looked at him over the rim of her teacup. He looked back. He was smiling though.

"It was _not_ convenient, it was an accident."  
"You mean in the way '_oh Seiji's hoovering out my girlfriends tonsils so I'll have a quick roll in the garbage with his wife'_ is an accident."  
"There's nothing between us Seiji."  
"There was. Once."  
"Oh, good grief! Don't be so tragic! He said he loved me once. And I told him to get lost! He was fourteen!"  
"Same age you were when you said you'd marry me!"  
"Alright, alright," She put her cup down and stood up, "So he pulled me down. And I didn't get up. Not straight away anyway."  
"And then?"  
"Well I landed on him, sort of."  
"Define _sort of_."  
"His – you know."  
"_Penis_? Is that the word you're looking for?"  
"He was hard. I felt it. He said some stupid stuff, he got up at once."  
"He got hard watching me kiss Yuuko?"  
"I think so, unless he's into refuse sex and me with old orange peel in my hair was his ultimate fantasy."  
"What did he say?"  
"_That should be us_."  
"Wow, so he does still carry a torch."  
"Maybe. I don't know. Maybe he meant if you two could kiss then maybe he wanted to kiss me. We were interrupted by you two coming up for air for the third time and that garbage pile was pretty gross. But…"  
"Oh, there's always a but."

She looked down, had gone pink again.

"I touched him. Gave him a quick squeeze. I don't know why, I just did. Probably just the booze and me being all hot and bothered from seeing you two."  
"And you want to invite them both round tonight for a sleepover?"  
"Uh, is that a problem? For you? If um, things happen…?"

He gave her a very long careful look.

"When we go out for that food, we'd better get more wine in as well."

She went even redder.

"Alright. And I owe you."  
"What?"  
"Naughty cuddles. You deserve some."

Shizuku untied the belt of her silk robe, opened it and let it fall. He sat there half mesmerized by how lovely she was and half stunned because they were out on the balcony.

She bent from the waist towards him and he watched the shape of her move and change. She took the teacup from his fingers and lay it on the table. She bent lower, and pressed her lips to his, opened him and entered.

He sat there, his mind already starting to overload and go with her to where she wanted to lead him. He lifted his hands, cupped her where she was soft and pretty, squeezed.

"Hmmm…"

She broke the kiss.

"Better?"  
"Than?"  
"Yuuko. Am I better than Yuuko?"

He nodded hastily.

"But then…"  
"Yes?"

Her voice was already becoming hoarse and breathy and the softness his hands played with had grown stiff points.

"Yuuko stank of green onion ramen and sake and she had clothes on. So it wasn't really a fair comparison."  
"You're mine," Shizuku smiled, and she bent her knees and gracefully descended between his legs, "do I look like a girl who gives a flying squirrel about fair comparisons?"

He sat and could only watch in wonder and anticipation as her fingers undid the belt of his robe and drew it open, folding it back off his shoulders.

"Now," she said, on her knees, her eyes lifted up to the face of the man she'd do anything for. Anything at all, "time for my naughty cuddles."

Shizuku opened her mouth and lowered her head.

-o-oOo-o-

Seiji closed his eyes, leaned his head back and let her take him away. It was only moments later when he was distracted by the heat of her, the wetness, the delicious tightness and her fluttering nimble tongue that he began to moan. And he continued to moan when she took him out of her mouth and used her slender strong fingers on him. In fact he made so much noise that he never heard her muttered comment at all. Never heard her say anything about:

"Hm, bigger than Sugi too…"

Before her soft mouth went back down and from the subsequent noises it was clear that Shizuku enjoyed her treat more than he did.

-o-oOo-o-

_24 July 2007  
Taken from Chapter 42 "Reunion" of "Other Side of the World"_


End file.
